I Told You So
by Writingwife83
Summary: Set after S3E3. Lestrade decides he wants to celebrate Sherlock's quick return from exile by taking him & others to a pub. And Sherlock is less than thrilled. But things get interesting when Lestrade convinces Anderson to relate his original theory about how the detective faked his death years before. And what happens at the pub, doesn't really stay at the pub! Please review! ;)
1. Chapter 1

_**Hi people! I'm doing something that's not typical for me. A one shot! And it's completely unrelated to any of my other stories. But I do have someone to thank for this! Bucky5 had given me a prompt for the story I'm doing called A Window into Change, that there be a Sherlolly outing to a pub with Lestrade and the gang. This got wheels turning in my head, and somehow this idea was born. So it has nothing to do with A Window into Change! I couldn't shake this idea, so I had to make it happen. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it! ;)**_

* * *

"Oh come on Sherlock, it's not going to kill you!"

"Not literally, no. But I can't think of a more torturous experience than sitting in a pub with all of them right now!"

John rolled his eyes and huffed. "Don't be dramatic Sherlock! How about flying off to Eastern Europe forever? Where does that rank on the torturous scale?! They're happy that you're staying, and they just want to buy you a drink. It's not that big of a deal, but it would mean a lot to them if you'd get out of that sheet, put some clothes on, and just come with me!"

Sherlock groaned and got up finally. "Fine! I'll be ready in ten minutes." and he started down the hallway.

"Oh, and Sherlock... could you maybe not wear dress trousers? It's really not necessary."

"Why? I always dress like that."

"Well, do you own a pear of jeans?"

"Yes of course I _own_ a pair!"

"Ok good! So wear those instead. Then maybe you'll look like you're trying to have fun, even if you're not."

Sherlock only responded by rolling his eyes and stalking off the rest of the way down the hall, then he went in his room and shut the door rather loudly.

John sat in his chair and blew out a heavy exhale. This night could turn into a disaster, he was well aware. But he didn't want to say no to Lestrade's plan. Greg was so happy when he heard that Sherlock had been aloud to stay in London after all. So about a week after the fact, he told John that he wanted to take Sherlock out for a drink and celebrate his return... Even if it was only after five minutes. John suspected that there was still a bit of tragedy hanging in the air after Sherlock's supposed death for those two years. So for those who thought they were about to lose him all over again, it was more than a relief to realize he wasn't going anywhere. Sherlock was, of course, less than thrilled at the prospect of an evening out at a pub.

Sherlock finally emerged from his room, shockingly enough, in jeans. He still wore a white dress shirt, but John was satisfied that he didn't look quite as professional and buttoned up as he usually did. Lestrade and his crowd may actually get the impression that he was there to enjoy himself... even if that was a bit inaccurate.

"Let's get this over with." Sherlock said with a sigh and grabbed his coat and scarf.

They arrived at the pub not long after that and Sherlock grabbed John's arm as the entered and he saw the table of people that were present.

"What is this? I don't see anybody here but Lestrade who cares three straws whether I'm here in this pub or in Eastern Europe being shot at! What are Donovan and Anderson doing here?! This is some stupid excuse to get everybody drunk, and I'll have no part in it." and he began to turn back to the door.

"Oh, no you don't!" John growled at him and held him back from exiting. "I promised them you'd come, and there's no way you're getting me blamed for letting you leave! If they get drunk, you can leave after they won't remember anything. But for now you will be grateful! To Greg, at least!"

Sherlock scrunched his face up.

"To _Lestrade_!" John immediately clarified and sighed in exasperation. "Come on, let's go."

They made their way over to the table and took a seat. As Sherlock was already expecting, nobody but Lestrade really even acknowledged his arrival. He wasn't really sure that anybody else had even been informed that this evening was meant for him! No matter in his mind though. Less people he'd be forced to pleasantly interact with.

"Hey! Welcome back!" Lestrade said happily and gave Sherlock a firm handshake.

"Not sure how happy you should be. I'm not staying for a particularly pleasant reason."

"Ah that!" Lestrade said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Let's not think about that right now! The important thing is that you're back here now. Just try to enjoy yourself and be happy that you're home."

"So... enjoyable." Sherlock said sarcastically under his breath as he looked around the pub.

The crowd then ordered what seemed to be a second round of drinks for all of them, seeing as the rest of them had already been there for a while. John forced Sherlock to have a beer along with everyone else. He drank his slowly, as he was not exactly feeling motivated to consume it as quickly as the rest of them were. The last thing he wanted was to become a drunk and useless form of himself in the presence of these people.

Another round for the rest of them later, John noticed that Sherlock was missing. He saw him over by the bar speaking to random people.

"Um, excuse me just a second." he said over the music to Lestrade.

"Clearly your wife is not being unfaithful. You're jumping to conclusions. She's obviously making plans to renovate your bedroom while you'll be away on your upcoming business trip. But from your behavior now, you will begin to make her suspicious, so I suggest you get yourself a cab and make your way home before she calls off the construction and starts packing her bags!"

This was the scene John came upon, and the man quickly threw back the rest of his beer before tossing some money on the table and making his way to the exit.

"What in the- Sherlock, you are not here to take on cases!"

"But I don't want to sit at that table and _chat_ with them John! You cannot make me!"

"Two lagers!" he yelled over Sherlock. "Just come back to the table. Poor Lestrade is going to think you don't even care that he organized this for you. It's not that hard Sherlock, you know how to fake things. A woman believed you wanted to marry her not long ago, we all know you can act. So just get over there and put on a happy face!" and then John shoved a beer at him.

Sherlock grabbed it begrudgingly and marched back over to the table only to hear the uncharacteristic laughter of Lestrade.

"Oh stop! Stop! I can't breath, honestly! Oh good Sherlock's back! Anderson, you've got to tell it from the beginning."

Sherlock could hear that Lestrade was feeling some effects of the now three rounds he had drunk.

"I hardly think Sherlock is interested in hearing this." Anderson said, sounding a bit superior.

"Sherlock, have you never heard Anderson's theory about how you faked your death?"

Sherlock shook his head as he eyes Anderson suspiciously. "Anderson is right, perhaps for the first time, I can't think why I'd be interested in that. I know how I did it. Why would I need to hear other people's silly- Ow!" and John kicked him soundly beneath the table. "As I was saying Anderson, _do_ go on."

"You're gonna love this Sherlock, it's hysterical! I mean, I may not have laughed when he first told me, but now that I know you're alive and well it's certainly good for a laugh!"

"Doesn't hurt to be drunk either." Sherlock muttered.

"So what, you're just going to make me tell this so you can laugh at me?!" and Anderson crossed his arms in annoyance as he looked around the table. "Let's all keep in mind that I was, in the end, right! And you were wrong! I did at least know he was still alive, even if I didn't know exactly how he pulled it off!"

"Oh stop pouting like a child Anderson and tell the stupid story! Lestrade won't shut up till you do!" Sherlock said before drinking more of his beer. His intent may not have been to get drunk, but he certainly wanted to dull the irritation of this evening and Anderson's surely idiotic ideas. So the beer was suddenly becoming more appealing.

"Ok fine!" and then Anderson began recounting the details. He went through everything from the bungie attached to the roof, to the hypnotist who made John pass out for a couple minutes, to the mask which disguised Moriarty as Sherlock. Sherlock wore a small smirk the whole time, thinking that his way was so much better.

"...Then you bounced back up and crashed through a window. You made your way out of the hospital from there. So there you have it, that was my theory! Go ahead and laugh all you want, but I think it was rather good!"

"Course you do Anderson. Whatever helps you sleep at night." Sherlock sneered.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Hold on a second there Anderson!" Lestrade said grabbing him by the shoulder. "How come you just left out one of the funniest parts?"

"What part was that?"

"The part involving a certain pathologist!" Lestrade said suggestively and elbowed Anderson.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. The detective inspector was clearly under the influence because he'd never usually throw Molly Hooper under the bus for any reason. What in the world could Anderson have theorized about Molly?

"That part wasn't important!" Anderson said waving his hand.

"Pfff! Not important?! It's funny! That's the point! Come on Anderson, tell Sherlock what happened after he crashed through the window. He'll get a kick out of this!.. Hurry up though, cuz Molly texted me that she is on her way and I don't think she'd find it as hilarious."

Anderson rolled his eyes. "Right fine, here goes... Sherlock you came crashing through the window and Molly was there waiting. Because she'd helped you of course, as I had correctly guessed! Anyway, you untethered the bungie cord and you had to sort of shake the broken glass off your coat and your hair. So as you did that, you strode over to Molly Hooper, and then..." and Anderson paused to glance at Sherlock in embarrassment for a moment before continuing. "and then you grabbed her and gave her a rather passionate kiss."

John began laughing hysterically right along with Lestrade and Donovan. Sherlock's eyes doubled in size when he heard that last sentence. He was not expecting... that.

"What?" Anderson exclaimed. "I'm sorry but I fail to see how that is so very ridiculous! She helped him fake his death, thereby helping save his life. He was very grateful! Weren't you Sherlock?!" Anderson demanded.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I was grateful, yes. Though I must say that is rarely how I show my gratitude." and he took another large swig of his beer.

"Rarely?!" Lestrade said through giggles. "How bout never! You could never have done that Sherlock, I think we all know you too well!"

Suddenly Sherlock set his glass down and frowned at Lestrade who was trying to slow his breathing again.

"Hang on... did you say I _never_ could have done that? Perhaps you didn't word that correctly. Do you somehow believe I am incapable of kissing a woman?"

That was when Sally Donovan spoke up. "Oh please! You can barely speak to a woman without putting her off! It doesn't take a detective to figure out that you couldn't sweep a woman off her feet to save your life!"

Sherlock glared daggers at her. "It would be a mistake to assume that my interactions with you are any indication of my skills in general with the opposite sex. If I did posses the skill to, as you say 'sweep a woman off her feet' you would certainly be the last person in the world to know about it!"

"No woman would know about it!" Donovan retorted. "Nothing with a pulse would know about it Sherlock Holmes! The only thing your passionate about is your own freakish brain!"

"Aw come on Sherlock, it's funny!" Lestrade said, clearly trying to diffuse the situation a bit. In his alcohol induced state, he had only thought to get a laugh out of Sherlock. But of course he didn't want to turn this into an insult session. "We know you, so I could imagine you thinking it was just as silly as I did!"

As Sherlock finished that second beer, on a stomach that had been empty all day, he could feel his brain being just a tiny bit altered. Normally this sort of teasing at his expense wouldn't make him blink, but he felt his irritation levels rising rapidly. These morons had no idea what he was and wasn't capable of. And they had no clue what sort of skills he possessed in the way of passion. He never did like to be deemed lacking in anything...

"Oh yes, so very silly." he said with a rather straight face. "You know me _so_ _well_."

John looked a bit concerned as he watched Sherlock. He picked up on the irritation at this point, and hoped Sherlock was going to keep things reasonably pleasant.

"Hi guys!" then came the sweet voice that approached the table.

The whole table uttered their hellos to Molly as she took a seat. She sat next to Lestrade who had pulled another chair up for her.

"Sorry I'm late. Took me a while to get out of there tonight. Hope I didn't miss anything important." and she looked around the table.

A couple people giggled a bit at her innocent question. Sherlock offered a small smile though. "Only if you count drunken idiocy as important."

"Surprised you're here Sherlock. I didn't think John would be able to convince you. Are you wearing _jeans_?" she said incredulously.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "How is this meant to be appropriate attire if it only looks strange for people to see me like this?!" he demanded of John.

"I think you look nice Sherlock. I was just noticing, that's all." and Molly took a drink of the beer that Lestrade had requested for her.

Sherlock observed the way she kept feeling the base of her left ring finger, where there was no longer a ring. But he noticed that every time she did it, she smiled very slightly to herself. She wasn't truly upset that it was over. Whatever the circumstances of her broken engagement, he could tell that deep down Molly knew it was for the best. He was in fact glad that she was now here...

"Any particularly fascinating autopsies today Molly?" Sherlock questioned, leaning forward on the table to hear her over the music that was playing.

"Oh, um, let me think..."

"No talking about work allowed!" Donovan said leaning over Lestrade and pointing at Molly. "You're supposed to be having fun. Don't let him bully you!"

"I do not bully her!" Sherlock spat back at her. "She happens to posses one of the best minds at this table, so please forgive me if I prefer to speak to her about something intelligent rather than watching your drunken flirtations with Anderson!"

Donovan set her lips tightly together and turned away again in frustration.

Molly couldn't help but giggle. She never personally enjoyed Donovan's company. And of course it always irritated her no end that the woman was so hard on Sherlock.

For the next hour or so Molly did indulge Sherlock in the events of the day. She didn't have anything terribly thrilling to share, but she tried to share as much detail as possible, considering the fact that she realized he'd rather be anywhere but here at the moment. And of course she let him interrupt her in order to make his own deductions after hearing some of her findings in each case. Molly couldn't help thinking that if these people wanted to welcome him back they should have gifted the poor man a double homicide case instead of taking him out for a drink!

Finally around eleven thirty John announced he needed to head home to Mary. He already felt bad for leaving her at home, but it wasn't exactly the thing to bring a largely pregnant woman to a pub. Sherlock, of course, didn't complain about leaving. He did stop though, as he was putting his coat on, to thank Lestrade for the night. He also thanked Molly for her company.

"It's been a pleasure Molly. Thank you for making this last hour bearable." he said quite honestly.

Her cheeks were pleasantly rosy and her eyes sparkled as she smiled up at him and nodded. He wasn't sure at this point if it was from the two beers she'd consumed by then, or if it was the attention he was showing her. Perhaps it was the alcohol he had in his system, but he had the sudden urge to say, _You see that Donovan?! Perhaps your deductions about my abilities with a woman were just as stupid as I said they were!_

"Well goodnight everyone!" John said with a slight lag in his words. He'd had double what Sherlock had.

They began to walk away and were almost to the door when Sherlock heard Donovan say something to Molly.

"Well thank God he's finally gone! Now you can actually enjoy yourself! Maybe now you might have the chance to meet a _real_ man tonight!"

_That did it._

Sherlock stopped in his tracks. John halted in the doorway as he saw that Sherlock wasn't moving forward.

"Sherlock? What is it? Are you coming?"

"In a moment, John." he said in a strangely calm and controlled voice. Then he turned around to face in the direction of their friends again.

"Oh Molly?" Sherlock called back over to the table, and she looked over at him. "Molly I almost forgot something. Could you come here a minute?"

Molly immediately got up from her seat and began walking toward the door. The rest of the party was watching as well, since Sherlock had to yell over to get Molly's attention. As she made her way over to where Sherlock stood, he began taking quick strides over to meet her halfway. In the space of that ten second stride Sherlock also reached up and quickly loosened and yanked off the scarf that was, as always, looped in the front of his neck. He then literally tossed the scarf behind him where it happened to land on the head of an unsuspecting man who sat at a neighboring table. Just as Molly was starting to open her mouth to ask what he was doing, she was stopped short.

And everyone else's mouths dropped to the floor.

Sherlock halted only when he'd come toe to toe with her and the split second before he'd reached forward to grab her head in his hands and cradle her face. He didn't hesitate even a bit as he dove downward and pressed a strong, insistent, and _passionate_ kiss onto her lips.

Sherlock felt Molly let out a slight gasp at the first contact of his lips, but then she almost instantly relaxed against him and he felt her hands dart up to hold tight to the collar of his coat. Her mouth then responded more than willingly against his own... and the kiss was very mutually deepened.

The fire from that kiss was palpable to just about everyone who had functioning eyesight.

"I knew it! I knew it! What did I say?!" Anderson exclaimed as he pounded a fist on the table and glared at the rest of them. But nobody else could even pick their jaws up from the ground, let alone make any sort of answer.

Sherlock kissed Molly till he felt dizzy and began to forget why he had even started this in the first place. He was only jolted back to reality when he felt her fingers leave the fabric of his coat collar and slide up against the bare skin of his neck. He finally pulled his face away, gently separating their now swollen lips. They stared back at each other while trying to still their unsteady and heavy breathing. Molly's pupils consumed almost the entire iris in her eyes and he could only assume, to his slight embarrassment, that his looked about the same.

Sherlock was vaguely aware that a few random tables of people started clapping. But for the moment, he could only focus his gaze on Molly. He cleared his throat and swallowed before attempting to speak.

"Forgive me Molly... I- I needed to... prove a point." and he finally slid his hands away from her face. They suddenly felt empty as they hung by his sides. She let her hands fall away from his neck as well.

"N-nothing to uh... forgive." she tried to say evenly, but her voice cracked of course. She had to then clear her own throat and quickly lick her lips before saying anything else. "I'm not sure what you were trying to er, prove... but I'm sure you proved it."

Sherlock's mouth curled in a small smile as he looked down at the sweet woman smiling back at him. Then he straightened himself and fixed his collar again, turning to face the rest at the table.

"Well, now I think I'm ready to head home everyone. Again, it's been a pleasure... Molly." he said softening his voice as he looked down at her again and nodded.

Then he walked back the way he'd come, taking his scarf from the man who held it out to him expectantly. "Thank you sir." he uttered as he looped it around his neck once more. And with that, he walked out the door that John was still holding in a state of shock.

Greg Lestrade turned to the rest of the table and they all stared at each other. Finally he spoke.

"Oh. My. God. I don't think I've ever sobered up so fast in all of my life."

Molly stood frozen where she stood with a small smile plastered on her face. It was a whole minute till she was able to move and come sit down again with a thud in her seat. She turned after a moment and faced Donovan with a grin.

"Anything else you'd like to say Sally?"

Sally Donovan raised an eyebrow and could only avert her gaze, unable to come up with any sort of reply. The rest of the table snickered.

...Except of course for Anderson, who sat there with his arms crossed, nodding his head and looking very pleased with himself.

"I told you so." he said again proudly. "I told you! _Now_ who's lowering the IQ of the entire street?!"

* * *

**_I gave Anderson a little credit in this. He probably does deserve a bit now and then, seeing as he did get some things right when others didn't. And besides, I think he will always hold a special place in our hearts simply because he clearly ships Sherlolly! Anyone who can concoct a kiss like that in their head is alright in my book! Hope you guys liked this, let me know what you think! Bye bye for now! ;) Oh, and thanks again Bucky5. :)_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Well... I know I said this was only a one shot. But I guess I lie like a rug! I had at first been unsure about where I would take things next. But just recently it occurred to me... Within the BBC show, Sherlock is a bit of a celebrity. And what happens when a celebrity is seen in public kissing someone? Social media goes nuts! Heck, their characters aren't even real, and that's exactly what happened when they shared the imagined (but glorious) coat flip hair ruffle kiss. So! That's sort of the inspiration for where I went with this second chapter. Hope you like it! ;)**_

* * *

This was what woke John Watson up as he tried to continue sleeping longer in his comfortable bed. Mary's voice split through his head like a wedge, and he winced as she called from the kitchen. He was really sorry he'd had even as much alcohol as he did the night before. And he noted with a groan that he wasn't as young as he used to be.

"John, I'm as big as this whole flat and I'm not getting back up just to show you this! You _will _want to see this!"

John swore under his breath. "Fine! I'm coming I'm coming! This better be important."

John finally trudged out of his bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen where Mary sat at their little table. He flopped down next to her, squinting painfully as the offending sunlight shone through the curtains and right into his face.

"What Mary? What can possibly be so important?" he asked as he rubbed his face with his palms.

"Well number one, I do not feel bad for you at all. Nobody made you drink as much as you did, all while your pregnant wife sat at home. And number two, _this _is what's so important." she handed her mobile phone to him, and as she did she added, "You'll want to look at what's trending on twitter right now."

John took the phone, and narrowed his eyes at the screen. But they quickly doubled in size as he began looking closer.

"Holy..." his words fell away as his mouth hung open.

"Yeah. I told you." Mary said with a smirk. "Exactly how much _did _Sherlock have to drink last night?"

"Uh he- um... a lot less than me. God, I forgot about that!"

"You saw it! My God, why didn't you tell me?!" Mary demanded, smacking his arm.

"You were asleep! I- I... Oh God, I wonder if Sherlock's seen this. Ok, this is crazy. You know, sometimes I forget that this idiot is some kind of celebrity!... Oh no, somebody took a video!" he then exclaimed, at which point Mary snatched the phone back demanding to see for herself.

"Oh my- Whoa! Look at that!" Mary giggled, holding her hand over her mouth. "Oh he's good isn't he?!"

"Ok, that's it. I'm going to Baker Street early today. I'm not due there for another two hours, but this is a crisis that must be dealt with. Or at least he's got to be made aware of it." John kissed his wife's head, as she continued to watch the same video and erupt in more fits of giggling.

John hurried to get dressed and ready to leave. This was going to be a very interesting day...

* * *

Molly was tired that next day. She'd been careful not to overdo it with drinking since she had to be back to work relatively early, but still she hadn't left the pub till after midnight. So the lack of sleep was bad enough.

She'd been rather proud of herself as she'd gone home that night, and then later this morning. She felt that she'd handled Sherlock's bizarre behavior the night before pretty well. She neither overreacted by assuming that he was now in love with her, or became furious at his being presumptuous enough to kiss her in the middle of a pub. It was also... pretty magnificent to say the least. So that certainly didn't hurt. Whatever it was all about, she enjoyed it to the full, that's for sure. And she'd even gotten an instant replay in her dreams this morning before her alarm rudely interrupted the lovely memory.

Molly decided to take a cab this morning, which she did on mornings when she felt she "deserved" it. And based on her fatigue, she felt she did this morning. The cab finally pulled up to the curb by Bart's hospital and Molly paid. She climbed out, with her couple bags in tow and began making her way to the door.

She barely registered that there were some people standing nearby the front door till she was almost right on top of them. And right before she could reach the door, a few people got right in her face and then a flash went off. Then began the rapid fire of questions.

"Dr. Hooper! What can you tell us about your relationship with Sherlock Holmes?"

"How long has this been going on between you and Sherlock?"

"Is Sherlock Holmes a good kisser?"

"Did you steal him away from his ex Jeanine?"

Molly was absolutely dumbstruck. She'd never experienced being bombarded by tabloid reporters. She'd developed the occasional bad habit of stuttering and tripping over her words simply from being spoken to by _one_ person, but for multiple people to jump at her was more than overwhelming. She fumbled behind her and finally grasped the door handle, opening it up and escaping into the building. She practically ran, even once inside, though there was no need. They knew better than to go inside the hospital.

Molly threw herself into the elevator and shut the door before anyone else could happen to join her. That's when she dared to pull out her mobile... twenty new text messages from friends and family. Yep, that's a bit above average. She'd gotten thirty seven friends sending her a twenty two second video clip from YouTube. And that didn't begin to touch what was happening on Twitter. She'd never received that many notifications in her life!

Molly let out a groan as she was crazy enough to click on the video link from one of the emails... And there it was. In all its glory. It was almost more shocking to watch than it had been to live it. Nobody else was even there to see it and yet she felt her entire face become the temperature and color of molten lava. When the elevator doors opened, she pushed quickly past the couple of people who were waiting there, then ran all the way to the women's locker.

She wondered exactly when she was going to feel ready to leave it, and venture out to do her job. Thank God she worked in a morgue, with a lock on the door.

* * *

"Yoo hoo!" Mrs. Hudson called sweetly as she entered the quiet flat at nine thirty that morning. She wasn't surprised that Sherlock was still asleep.

She tip toed down the hall and knocked lightly at his bedroom door... Nothing.

"Sherlock! Yoo hoo! You brother is here! I can't hold him off any longer! He won't leave till he sees you!" she then knocked again a bit louder.

At that point she heard something akin to a muffled growl, then the shuffle of feet, and then the door opened a few inches. Just enough for Sherlock to peer out at her frowning.

"What does he want?! Tell him to go away and text me later!"

"He won't leave! I tried to tell him I'd have you call him later but he won't have it."

"No indeed, I won't have it." Mycroft's voice came from the sitting room now.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Just a minute." he grumbled at Mrs. Hudson and slammed the door again.

"He's coming." Mrs. Hudson said with a smile as she made her way out of the door.

"He'd better be." Mycroft said, mostly to himself.

A few moments later Sherlock came padding down the hall and into the kitchen, not surprisingly, in a sheet.

"I come over here to have a serious discussion with you, and you come out in a sheet!"

"Please, Mycroft! I didn't put clothes on for Buckingham Palace. What makes _you _so special?" and then he made his way to his desk and sat down to open up his laptop.

"Oh good, you're turning on your computer. This will make my job so much simpler." Mycroft sneered. "Clearly you've not been checking social media on your mobile in the past twelve hours."

"Why would I? I have no reason to at the moment."

"Have an enjoyable time last night at the pub with your little friends?" The older Holmes inquired, seemingly changing the subject. "It certainly seems you did."

"Oh relax Mycroft. I didn't shoot anybody this time." he sighed as he opened his email. Mycroft watched as he saw Sherlock begin to frown.

"Something amiss little brother?" he asked in mock confusion.

"Why is everybody sending me video links?" he began to mutter quietly at the screen.

Just then, John barged into the flat, making Sherlock look up at him rather confused. He was a full hour early and he looked a bit out of breath. John looked at Mycroft who was sitting on the couch and raised his eyebrows in question first before saying the words.

"Did you show him?" John asked, pointing at Sherlock.

"I was just about to watch him make the enlightening discovery for himself." then he looked back at his brother. "Sherlock, why don't you click on that video link?"

"Which one?" he frowned.

"Doesn't really matter, does it? Whichever email you're closest to. I guarantee they all take you to the same place."

John came over and stood behind Sherlock as he followed the link and the twenty two second video began to play. Sherlock's face fell almost instantly when he saw the backdrop of the pub. There was only one thing that anyone in that pub would have taken a video of last night. He watched in some shock and awe, as if he and Molly were people he'd never seen before in his life.

"Oh my God... " John breathed out from behind him. And he clamped a hand over his mouth for a moment to stifle the laugh that was threatening. "I swear, it gets more dramatic every time I watch it. I think the whole scarf throwing thing really puts it over the top."

Sherlock whirled around and grimaced at his friend. "Exactly how many times have you watched this?!"

"Oh, you know, just a couple times this morning with Mary. She was pretty impressed Sherlock!" and he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped then.

"And exactly what are you doing here, Mycroft?!" Sherlock then demanded. "Here to send me to Eastern Europe after all, for public displays of affection? I'm sure they're just dying to find any reason to ship me out again!"

"I'm here to tell you that was a public display of stupidity! You're barely welcome back at this moment. May not be the best time to plaster your face all over the internet snogging Dr. Hooper! Do you think that's what instills confidence in the government that you're back to get serious about the work at hand?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and rubbed his palms over his face.

"Haven't you seen twitter? You must be getting about a million notifications!" John asked as he took out his phone.

"I turned those off a long time ago." Sherlock said with a dismissive wave. "I use it for work, I don't check to see what's going on in my own life!"

"Oh it's spread to the blog too!" John announced, showing Sherlock his phone. "Look, we've got all these comments on my last case post. Two hundred and seventy new comments, and from what I can tell none of them have anything to do with that case... Yep, everything I can see are questions about you and Molly."

"Oh, for God's sake! Don't people have better things to do with their lives?! Why can't they go... commit a crime of something?!" Sherlock growled and shut his computer.

"A wide array of photographs at varying angles as well. Rather fascinating." Mycroft added, taking out his own mobile. "All you have to do is search #Sherlockiss." and he smiled sardonically.

Sherlock jumped up from his chair clutching at the sheet as his jaw set more firmly as the seconds passed. "Fine! So get rid of it!" he hissed at his brother.

"Get rid of it? You can't be serious Sherlock. Do you realize how difficult it is to erase a video that's already gone viral, in addition to all the pictures!"

"If you're so terribly _bothered_ by it, then do it! Don't try to tell me you don't have the resources."

Mycroft chuckled. "Perhaps I do Sherlock. But perhaps I'm also not at liberty to use the extent of my resources on you at the moment."

"Whoa!" John exclaimed suddenly. "This particular shot caught a pretty detailed view of the kiss! You really meant business!" he then thrust the screen of his phone toward Sherlock while shaking his head.

Sherlock peered over to examine the picture and his eyes widened. Somehow the whole thing had become a blur in the moment he'd done it, so to see it now broken up in individual moments of time was enlightening even to himself. He began to think it was possible that he'd proved his little point a bit too thoroughly, as that particular picture well illustrated.

Suddenly Mrs. Hudson popped her head in. "Sherlock dear, there's people at the door who want to know if Molly's here. Why would Molly be here right now?"

"Of course she'd not here!" Sherlock thundered. "She's at-"

And then realization hit. Molly... She would be out of her flat by now. He looked at his watch. Yes, she would have gotten to Bart's over an hour ago. Not. Good...

"I'm going to get dressed." he announced as he headed back toward the hallway. "Mycroft, send a car to wait for Mol- Dr. Hooper at Bart's at five this evening."

"I told you, I'm not at liberty to use-"

"Do it!" he yelled. "I'm not asking you to use your precious resources for me. I'm asking so that a small woman doesn't get eaten alive by vicious reporters! Surely Dr. Hooper hasn't done anything in particular to incur the wrath of the British government. So send a car tonight, _for her_!"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with John. "Consider it done."

Sherlock then retreated to his bedroom and began dressing. Damage control required the use of his hands. He couldn't be bothered holding onto a sheet anymore. Halfway through buttoning his shirt, he picked up his mobile which he'd left at his bedside when he'd exited the bedroom earlier. He ignored all the email notices, and went straight to his texts. There were a few from John asking if he was up and had been online yet, and saying he was coming over. Then he saw a few from Molly...

ARE YOU UP? -MH

PROBABLY BEST YOU STAY AT YOUR FLAT TODAY. -MH

WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T COME TO BART'S. -MH

PROBABLY DON'T GO ONLINE EITHER. -MH

MAYBE PUT YOUR MOBILE ASIDE AS WELL... OH, I GUESS YOU'D HAVE IT NOW IF YOU'RE READING THIS... BUT NOW JUST PUT IT ASIDE. -MH

DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT GO ON TWITTER!... BUT NOW REALLY STOP LOOKING AT YOUR PHONE! -MH

Sherlock frowned at the screen of his phone. She seemed rather embarrassed, in his estimation. Not exactly surprising, given the circumstances. Though he wondered what she was so afraid of _him _seeing. It's not as if he wasn't extremely present and participatory at the actual event last night.

He felt he should make some sort of reply, seeing as she'd clearly sent those texts in some amount of panic. They were all within two to three minutes of each other. But the last one was sent a half hour ago. And despite the fact that she'd instructed him not to pay attention to his phone, he could picture Molly repeatedly checking hers and wondering if a reply was coming. So he did reply.

I'M HAVING MYCROFT SEND A CAR FOR YOU AT THE END OF YOUR SHIFT. YOU'LL WANT TO AVOID PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION... AT LEAST TILL THIS BLOWS OVER. -SH

It took less than a minute for her reply to come through.

OH. OK, WELL THANKS. YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DO THAT. -MH

YES I DID. I TAKE FULL RESPONSIBILITY. -SH

No reply came after that, and Sherlock wondered if she was feeling a bit resentful. It would be understandable. He had just turned her life upside down in less than thirty seconds. He shook his head as he slipped the suit jacket on. Stupid, stupid... Why did he have to agree to go to that disgusting pub anyway? If he'd stayed home none of this would have happened. He'd proven a point alright. He'd proven he shouldn't get involved in ridiculous social gatherings involving alcohol.

Finally he emerged from his bedroom. John was sitting alone by then and his brother was nowhere to be seen.

"Mycroft said he had other things to do, so he left. He said to tell you he will send the car for her though."

"Mm." was the only reply John got, as Sherlock sat in his chair and began pouring himself some tea that Mrs. Hudson had left while he was getting dressed.

John nodded and pursed his lips as he watched his friend. He began to open his mouth again finally but Sherlock spoke first.

"Don't say it John."

He frowned at Sherlock. "Sorry, what? You have no idea what I was about to say."

"I can think of half a dozen questions or statements you could be about to make, and I have no desire to respond to any of them." then he grinned quickly before taking a sip of his tea.

"How bout, why did you do that last night?"

"Yes, that was indeed one of my guesses."

"And you don't want to answer that question?"

"No. Mostly because I already did. You asked me that very same question in the cab last night. I dislike _repeating _myself." and he opened the paper in front of his face with a loud crack.

John chuckled. "I was a bit out of it last night Sherlock, forgive me if I can't recall whatever conversation we had in the cab... But I'm guessing this all had something to do with a bit of taunting that was directed at you before Molly's arrival at the pub."

No response from behind the paper.

"Ok, I'll take that as a yes... Probably not worth all this trouble though was it?"

More deafening silence from behind the paper.

Then an amused smile began to creep onto John's face. "Unless it _was _worth it." he said slowly.

The paper came down loudly then as Sherlock glared at John.

John couldn't contain a bit of laughter as he held hands up in surrender. "Sorry it just- it sort of _looked _like it might have been worth it. I mean, wow."

This earned him another warning look.

"Ok, ok, I'm stopping. Really."

Neither of them spoke for a couple minutes as John got back on his mobile and Sherlock went back to his paper. Sherlock tried to ignore the occasional snickering from his friend as he was clearly reading and watching things related to the previous night's humiliation. It got quiet after a while though, and Sherlock hoped John had moved on. Till John spoke again.

"Ok, I'm sorry Sherlock, but I have to tell you one more thing. Mary just texted me. Not sure I've ever seen her use so many exclamation points." John smiled while shaking his head.

"Oh what now?!" he huffed, setting the paper down again.

"Looks like you have a name now... you and Molly."

"We have a name?" and the bridge of Sherlock's nose crinkled in confusion.

"Mm hmm." John hummed, and at first only smirked back at his friend in answer. Sherlock stared at him in waiting, and then John said it...

"Sherlolly."

* * *

_**I couldn't resist bringing THE name in there hehehe!... So as you can probably tell, I left it at a flexible place. This could simply be a follow up, and it could make sense to just call it complete at this point. BUT! If enough readers would like, I could possibly keep this ball rolling. I'd love to hear your thoughts! And either way, I sure had fun with this! ;D**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**First of all, may I just say... WOW! I got 45 new reviews after posting that second chapter two days ago. That is, without a doubt, the most reviews I've ever gotten for one chapter of anything I've written. Let alone in that amount of time! I was blown away by the wonderful positive response! So needless to say, this ball is gonna keep a' rollin! I have so many fun ideas about the fall out from this crazy Sherlolly kiss, but as usual this chapter's content took longer to describe than I thought. So I don't get into too much more of the cute social media stuff till the end. But I plan to have more coming in the future chapters! **_

_**Oh and specifically to the guest and anonymous reviewers, thank you SO much! I got so many and I SO hate that I can't respond to you guys and thank you each personally! So, c'mon, make an account already, or don't do anonymous reviews! For ME!... Hehehe, ok jk, you don't have to listen to me. I still love your reviews, guest or not! ;D**_

* * *

"Lestrade sent a text. There's been a murder and a kidnapping. A man is dead and his four year old daughter is missing from the home." Sherlock informed John as he immediately went for his coat.

"Oh my God." John murmured, getting up from his seat. "Where are we going?"

"To Bart's. To see the man's body."

"Oh... Ok, well hopefully the reporters aren't still there."

"Oh they are, John. I already checked this morning. Molly said they were still there on her way into the building." and the two men headed down the stairs.

"I guess that's not so surprising. It's only been another day... So what did she say to them?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what is she telling reporters when they ask her questions about what's going on with you two? That is what they want to know, of course."

Sherlock didn't answer as he stepped out of the front door. He hadn't exactly considered that question. He was concerned about the fact that Molly may be hounded by reporters, but he never thought about the question of whether she was speaking to them. And if so, what was she saying? Probably nothing.

And then he was rudely reminded of the whole ridiculous issue as he was faced with a few reporters that had been waiting outside the flat.

"Sherlock, can you tell us anything about your relationship with Dr. Hooper?"

He tried not to acknowledge them and pushed past to get to where he could flag down a cab. He raised his hand outward toward the street as he continued to hear the questions fly at him.

John tried to help. "Look, there's been a murder and Sherlock needs to work. This really isn't the time. Excuse us!"

They finally got a cab to stop and climbed in, quickly shutting the door.

"What in the world? Sherlock, this is crazy!"John said as he settled back in his seat and looked at the commotion out the window.

"It'll blow over John. We just have to give it some time." Sherlock said calmly. Though he had to admit that everyone seemed to be whipped into quite a frenzy over this little incident. He didn't recall this much excitement over the story about him and Jeanine. It seemed like John's mind was going in the same direction.

"You got people all excited over this! I suppose it's the first time though, so they can't help themselves. I mean, the story about Jeanine was a scandal, but it was all over by the time it hit the papers. This is more like the start of something, so it's a new experience for your fans I suppose."

Sherlock frowned at John. "The start of something? Are you as delusional as them?!"

"I meant- Sorry, I meant it _looked _to them like the start of something! Just- you know, bad wording." John quickly corrected, seeing the fear written on Sherlock's face as he eyed him from across the back seat of the cab.

"Yes... well it doesn't take much." Sherlock added as he then turned his gaze to the world outside the cab. "They used to talk about us, after all."

"Mm, how could I forget?" John groaned.

"Finally put that rumor happily to rest once you got married."

"True... Probably not a plausible way to get the reporters off your backs in this case. Though Molly may get another boyfriend. Or maybe she'll get back together with Tom."

Sherlock chuckled. "Unlikely at this point. Unless he lives under a rock, he would have seen all the same pictures and video that the rest of us have."

John did a little double take. "And you find that... amusing?"

He narrowed his eyes in thought. "Uuuummm... yes."

"Why?" John laughed. "What's wrong with Tom?"

"How about the fact that even Anderson may exceed his IQ? We can't have idiocy rubbing off on Molly."

John pointing an accusing finger at his friend. "I think, you didn't like the fact that he looked like you."

"He doesn't 'look like me.' He just happen to dress like me." Sherlock scowled.

"He did look a bit like you, Sherlock, you have to admit. It's clear Molly has a type."

"Yes, she does." Sherlock answered looking back out the window again. "But Tom was not her type. Her type isn't really so much about clothing and hair. It's clearly more than that. In the same way that you never would have been happy with some school teacher who had a squeaky clean record, Molly never would have been happy with Tom."

"Really?" John questioned a little suspiciously as he crossed his arms and frowned at Sherlock.

"Mm. Obviously."

John peered over at him and thought about saying more, but he dropped it. This wasn't probably the time. Especially because they were nearing Bart's. And sure enough there was a small crowd of people nearby who began to peer over at the cab and get excited because of spotting Sherlock.

"Sherlock, you're going to have to run for it." John said as he saw the people approaching.

"Oh yes yes, I know, I can handle it John." he said, as if he were the subject of steamy tabloid gossip every day of his life.

They jumped out of the cab and jogged quickly to Bart's entrance, Sherlock in front and John trailing further behind, trying to discourage the group.

"Sherlock! Are you going to see Molly Hooper?!" one of them yelled as they followed.

"We are working, you're going to need to back off a bit, thank you! Sherlock doesn't have anything to say!" John yelled back.

They snaked into the hospital and John puffed out a sigh. "You know you're gonna have to start paying me an additional salary for public relations."

Sherlock smirked over at him. "John, you've been doing P.R. at no cost to me for years. Why should I start paying you now?"

"Git." John muttered, shaking his head as they made their way to the elevators.

They got to the morgue and Sherlock pushed his way through the doors. Lestrade stood there speaking to Molly.

"There he is! Make it through the front doors alive? They even tried to get information out of me!" Lestrade laughed. "I said no comment. Here I am working on solving a murder, and I actually had to say no comment... About this!" and he gestured to Sherlock and Molly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and decided not to respond to Lestrade directly. He did however, speak to Molly.

"Did they bother you much?" he asked, lowering his voice a bit as if to exclude the other two men in the room.

"Um, a bit. I just, you know, hurried. It's fine." and she offered a tight smile up at him.

She was mildly upset in his estimation. She seemed to be bothered by the whole situation, but was trying to act as if it was no big deal. He began to regret he'd caused this whole mess for a whole lot of reasons.

"So, this is the body?" Sherlock asked, looking down at the table, glad to change the subject.

"Single clean shot to the head." Molly said as she pulled back the sheet. "Instant death. Here's the bullet."

Sherlock took the plastic bag from her, examining the bullet inside.

"Looks like it was... professional. There wasn't even anything disturbed in the house." Lestrade added. "We can see where the killer got in, but that was also done with skill. No prints or anything. It's a bit odd. This was a pretty normal guy. No high powered job or involvement in politics. This sort of killing isn't usually the kind done just for the purpose of kidnapping a child."

"Family situation?" Sherlock asked, handing the bullet back over to Molly.

"Well, he did divorce the little girl's mother about a year back. It's been an ugly custody battle. Neither have remarried, but the father was seeing someone."

"Mums don't have their ex shot if it's going to involve their child getting kidnapped." John added.

"No they don't." Sherlock agreed.

"We've got the mum working with us. She's a mess of course." Lestrade added.

"Who's got money?" Sherlock asked as he leaned over and examined the perfect bullet wound in the center of Robert Lawrence's forehead. "I need to know who in the family has the most resources. A job like this doesn't come cheap."

"Well, his ex Barbara did come from money. And she's still got her mother alive."

Just then Lestrade's mobile began ringing. "Yeah, hello?... Oh my God... Ok, right. I'll be right there."

He hung up and sighed. "The kid's alive. Was found wandering around in a crowded park saying 'take me to the police' and still holding the same teddy bear she had the night before... I've got to go. I'll get back to you Sherlock. I'll email you everything we've got on the ex and her family." and with that he hurried out of the morgue.

Molly covered the man's face again. And then the morgue was quiet. John glanced at Sherlock and saw that he was observing Molly.

"Your shift is over, isn't it Molly?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, yes. You can um, leave first though." and she yanked her gloves off. "Just text me when you're five minutes away and then I'll leave."

"Isn't Mycroft's car waiting for you?"

"No, actually. I told them not to come today. Who knows how long it'll take for these people to lose interest. I can't just keep using Mycroft's drivers every day. I'll just take cabs till it all dies down."

"Not terribly secure though. Anybody could hop in a cab with you."

"And what? And what, Sherlock?!" she said, suddenly raising her voice. "They're not going to murder me."

Sherlock stared back at her. John looked back and forth nervously between them. He began to wonder if he should offer to leave.

"No, but they are extremely pushy." Sherlock finally said, looking a little irritated now.

"What are you afraid of? That I'll talk to them? What exactly do you think I'd say?"

"That is not why I had Mycroft send his car."

"Isn't it?" she questioned. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and raised a eyebrow in challenge.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head slowly, becoming more annoyed at her suggestion. He hadn't realized she was going to be this upset at _him. _

"No! That is not why." then he looked back at John and demanded, "Wasn't this one of those things you people call 'being nice?' What's the point, if this is the way it ends up being perceived?!"

John decided to ignore the fact that the question was directed at him. He began looking anywhere else in the room that he could and took a couple literal steps back.

"You're just trying to control things Sherlock. Please don't pretend this is some sort of gallant gesture. You care about yourself." and her tone had turned a little bitter. She almost felt bad when she looked back at him, because he looked a bit injured. But the look was fleeting, and he then returned to simply looking irritated.

Molly then hurried to place Mr. Lawrence back in his frozen vault before pulling off her lab coat. John watched Sherlock as he stood silently by, wondering what they were waiting for now. Molly hung up her lab coat and made her way to the door.

"I'm going to get you a cab." Sherlock stated as he followed her path.

"Just forget about it Sherlock." she sighed as she made her way down the hall toward the locker rooms.

"Stop being a child Molly! I'm taller, I can get a cab faster!" he said more loudly as he pushed through the women's locker room door right after Molly.

John halted in his tracks frowning at the disappearance of both of them. He could hear the two arguing voices continuing behind the door.

"I'll just wait here then, shall I?" he said into the air with an incredulous expression.

A few moments later Molly came out with her bag on her shoulder and Sherlock trailing behind her. John picked up the pace and followed along. He hoped he would be able to remember all these little details to relate to Mary later.

The three of them rode the elevator in silence, except now they could hear constant twitter alerts from Molly's pocket.

"You may want to turn the alerts off." Sherlock offered.

"Thank you, yes. I realize that." she muttered.

"Of course it would also be helpful if you weren't following more than one of my fan pages." Sherlock stated with smug undertones to the statement.

She shot him an angry and hurt look. She then turned back to stare in front of her before answering. "I'm assuming you've checked my mobile."

"Of course I have. Probably because I like to _control things._"

"Sherlock!" John finally found his voice. He was starting to lose track of who was mad, and who was hurt, and who was in the wrong. But he knew that Sherlock certainly wasn't helping things at this point.

As the elevator opened, Molly darted out, ready to make a run for it once outside. Sherlock easily kept pace with her though, and he forced his way next to her as she went outside. As he suspected, the crowd went particularly wild because of seeing the two of them together. They could barely walk their way to the curb, and despite Molly's earlier irritation, she was naturally huddling closer to Sherlock and John as they tried to navigate.

"Molly! Is Sherlock the reason you broke up with Tom?!"

Her head whipped around to look at that reporter. This shocked her, though she realized it shouldn't have. What were the chances they wouldn't start looking into her recent relationships?

"Tom said you must not be over him, and you're on the rebound with Sherlock because of the resemblance! What's your answer to that?!" the same man said.

"Shut up! She has no answer to such a stupid question!" Sherlock suddenly yelled.

"Molly wait!" the persistent reporter yelled again, and then reached out grabbing the strap of her bag on her shoulder. This stopped her short and threw off her balance a bit.

"Hey!" John yelled at the man.

Sherlock didn't bother with yelling though. He instead reached out a shoved the man away from Molly, making him stumble back against the others. Then Sherlock pulled Molly in front of him against his chest and wrapped an arm protectively around her. With his other arm, he reached out to hail a cab now that they'd finally got to the street.

A cab stopped almost immediately and Sherlock instantly opened the door to deposit Molly in the back seat before climbing in himself. John had run around to the opposite door and climbed in on the other side of Molly. She immediately called out her address, but John saw that she had her face in her hand. The cab began moving.

"Still want to hail your own cabs?" Sherlock asked.

"Give it a rest Sherlock." John warned as he put a comforting arm around Molly and rubbed her shoulder gently.

"Don't let it bother you. They probably didn't even speak to Tom. They were just trying to get a reaction from you." Sherlock said, in a slightly unconcerned voice.

"Yeah well they did succeed in getting a reaction from _someone _didn't they?" John said, giving Sherlock a pointed look.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Why don't you just tell them you were drinking?" came Molly's small voice suddenly as she removed her hand and sniffed.

"What?"

"Just tell them you were drunk! Or it was a joke or something! I mean, that's what it was anyway! Just explain it and I'm sure they'll leave us alone." she said wearily.

"That's not exactly how it works Molly. Whatever I say they'll twist. They'll write and post whatever they like, regardless of what you or I say. Just give them time to... get bored."

"They're never gonna get bored if you keep attacking reporters Sherlock." John added.

Sherlock scrunched up his face at John. "Oh please! John, what would you have done if that was Ma-" but he froze mid sentence. That comparison would not have come out sounding right. He pressed his lips together and saw that John was frowning at him in question over Molly's head. Sherlock ignored the look he was being given and decided to look out the window instead.

They finally reached Molly's flat and she gathered her things. "Thankfully they haven't figured out where I live yet. Probably will by tomorrow though."

Sherlock opened his door and got out, allowing Molly to exit. She walked by him and headed straight for the steps up to her door.

"Molly?"

She looked back at him.

"I- I am sorry." he said in all seriousness.

"Yeah, I know." she said with an expression that was difficult to read. "I know you are."

Then she unlocked her door and disappeared inside. Sherlock frowned for a moment at the empty space where she had stood. Then he got back in the cab and John gave the driver his address.

"Why don't you come back and eat with me and Mary tonight?"

"I suppose." he said quietly.

"You ok?" John pressed.

"I'm fine."

"Ok... that's good. You think Molly's gonna be ok?"

"I'm sure she will be."

"You think you might want to explain to her, you know, why you kissed her?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment, then he pursed his lips and took a breath before responding.

"I don't know John, she seems to have a pretty good handle on it already."

"Does she? She mentioned drunkenness and joking. I'm not sure that really covers it."

Sherlock tipped his head in thought. "Mmm, close enough."

"Ever think that maybe you're bothering her just as much as the pushy reporters?"

"Probably goes without saying... I bother people all the time." he stated matter-of-factly.

John nodded in silence as the cab drove. That was pretty accurate.

* * *

They got to John's flat and went in the door. When they rounded the corner, Mary was sitting on the couch with her feet up and her tablet propped on her pregnant belly.

"Oh hi guys!" she said cheerily as John came over and kissed her. "I hope you're ordering something. I can't even imagine standing for long enough to put a meal together!"

"Sure, we'll order something... What have you been up to?" John asked, then looking at the tablet.

"Oh, you know, just... online stuff." she said smiling up at the two men.

Sherlock eyed her suspiciously and then grabbed the tablet away from her. He began looking over the screens that she had open and his face contorted in horror. "Is this what you've been doing? Who's side are you on?!" he demanded as he shoved the tablet at John.

John gaped at the screen as he looked over what Sherlock had just seen. He went to the YouTube window and began playing the previous video in the history.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she said as sincerely as she could manage between laughs. "Look, I'm pregnant and stuck at home, and I'm bored! And frankly, this stuff is just too good. I mean c'mon, listen! They've started putting the video to music!"

Sherlock looked toward the tablet John held out to show him, as the familiar video began playing. Though this one had been edited in slow motion with some sort of black and white filter as well, and as background music, the chorus of "Latch" by Sam Smith began playing.

Sherlock's eyes doubled in size. "Oh dear Lord..." he managed to whisper.

The video ended, paused at the moment where Sherlock pulled away but still held Molly's face, gazing down at her intensely.

There was silence in the small room for a moment till Mary let out a heavy sigh and placed a hand over her heart.

"God that's beautiful." Mary breathed, and John snorted out a badly concealed laugh.

Sherlock managed to open his mouth again after swallowing thickly. "Th-that video was titled Sherlolly FTW... What's FTW?" and he wondered vaguely if he even wanted to know.

Mary looked hesitant at first, then cleared her throat. "It's uh... For The Win."

John then completely dissolved into laughter.

* * *

_**I was genuinely laughing out loud when I was writing this last scene! I could not even help myself! (Thanks to Sherlockedinseattle btw for suggesting the song "Latch!")... As I said there's more social media fun to come for them. Because as we all know, a fan video on YouTube is barely scratching the surface of what a fandom can do! There are good times ahead... So, thanks to all your amazingly encouraging reviews, it looks like another multi-chapter fiction has been born. Thanks again! ;)**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Good morning readers! Well, it's morning for me.. Anyway, here's the next installment. I have to say, things got a bit more serious and heavy half way through this chapter. For those of you who mostly care about the fun fluffy media coverage and social network stuff, that will be continuing as I go along. But there were some things that I needed to get set up in this chapter. Happy reading! ;)**_

* * *

"I really prefer the one where it's regular speed when he walks over and tosses the scarf, but then it goes to slow motion when he grabs her face and kissed her." Anderson said with a thoughtful expression. "Just, really brilliant editing."

Lestrade nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I've seen that one! Isn't that the one that's got that Foreigner song 'I Want To Know What Love Is?' Oh, that's classic!"

"People are doing a lot with the pictures now too."

"Oh, you mean the pictures of the kiss?"

"Well, yeah, those of course. But now there's the ones from yesterday outside Bart's. Everyone's going nuts over those! Have you seen them?"

"Show me quick!" Lestrade said, jumping over to where Anderson sat with his phone. "Sherlock will be here any minute."

The two of them peered at the screen. "There. See? These were taken outside of Bart's while they tried to fight off the crowd of reporters and get a cab. I mean, look at that!"

Lestrade's expression actually turned serious as he examined the pictures that Anderson scrolled through. "So... these weren't edited or anything? You mean these are all just, real pictures?"

"Sure. I mean people are doing all sorts of things with them of course. But what you're looking at here is exactly what happened yesterday. No editing."

Lestrade examined one of the picture with Sherlock's arm wrapped securely across Molly who stood in front of him. His long arm draped easily from one of her shoulders across to the other, and was anchored there. He had his other arm extended to hail the cab. And he was very subtly watching over his shoulder, keeping the offending crowd in his sights.

"Wow... So you don't think- I mean, do you think it's actually possible that... you know, Sherlock could..." and Lestrade glanced at Anderson who looked back at him with eyebrows raised. He grinned in the usual way.

"It's obvious!"

Lestrade shook his head a little as he looked back at the picture. Certainly was amazing how a picture could twist reality... whatever the reality was. Just then he was removed from his thoughts by the baritone of the detective himself approaching his office.

"Solved!" he announced happily as he came through the doorway and slapped down the file on Lestrade's desk. Sherlock also noticed how Lestrade and Anderson seemed to stand up rather quickly, with an _I didn't do it _expression on both their faces. He looked suspiciously back and forth between them.

"Still on filing duty Anderson?" Sherlock asked smugly.

"I help with other things." he answered proudly.

"Yes, congratulations on that." he sighed sarcastically. "Anyway! I solved the case, Lestrade!"

"Well, the ex Barbara is still maintaining her innocence. You think it was her?"

"No. Not her. It was Barbara's mother! With minimal effort I was able to uncover loads of evidence to the fact that Barbara's mother, Sharon Blake, has never liked her ex son in law. She didn't attend the wedding, never said one positive thing about him or her daughter's marriage on any social networks she was following them on. And even made a few snide comments. Then there's the finances. The Blakes come from money, and as evidenced by their style of living, that's important to them. Robert Lawrence, was decidedly in the lower middle class. Then the marriage heads south, and Mr. Lawrence was fighting for joint custody. Barbara didn't want this based on her court document."

"So, why wouldn't it be Barbara? I mean maybe she wanted Robert dead, but had her rich mother loan her the money." Anderson interjected.

"Anderson, this is not one of the _things_ that you're allowed to help with! Thinking _logically_ would make us conclude that it couldn't be Barbara. She's by all accounts a responsible and loving parent. No, she wouldn't take the chance that her daughter's then only surviving parent would be caught for the crime and taken away. But! The grandmother would sacrifice. She would be willing to remove the _problem _for her daughter. Knowing that if she was caught, she would have at least ensured the life that she believes her daughter and granddaughter deserve. And of course there's the additional obvious evidence that the little girl was found alive and well, clearly having been given the instructions to ask for the police. Whoever had that crime committed made sure that the little girl was completely unharmed... Love. A vicious motivator." and Sherlock smiled at the conclusion.

"Well... Yeah that does make sense. I'll check into the grandmother's bank records. If there's any large withdrawal, that'll be enough to bring her in for questioning." Lestrade said, writing a note for himself.

"And I believe that is exactly what you will find." Sherlock said confidently. "You're welcome."

He then narrowed his eyes at both of them again. "What exactly were the two of you doing when I came in here a minute ago?"

Both men shrugged. "Nothing important, really." Lestrade said unconvincingly.

"Social media about myself and Molly then?" Sherlock said immediately.

Both men looked sheepish and wouldn't make eye contact anymore.

"Excellent." Sherlock said with an eye roll, heading back to the door. "I'll just go then, knowing that the safety and security of the city is so very safe in your capable and professional hands... Gentlemen." he nodded to both of them and took his leave.

Lestrade elbowed Anderson. "Thanks a lot!"

* * *

It didn't take long for Mrs. Sharon Blake to be arrested for the murder of Robert Lawrence. The evidence was there, as Sherlock had known it would be. The press was excited, of course, about the detective's solving the case so quickly. Later that day, they gathered outside 221B eagerly awaiting Sherlock and John's statement.

"I'll go down in a minute, John. I'm not done with my tea yet." Sherlock said nonchalantly.

"Well hurry it up! I'd like to get home to Mary before it's too late."

Suddenly Mrs. Hudson came flying in the flat giggling uncontrollably and holding her newspaper.

"Mrs. Hudson?" John questioned, laughing a little himself at the woman who seemed to be completely losing it.

"Sh- Sherlock! What is this?!" she giggled out, holding up the second page's story about him and Molly. The story had at least a half dozen pictures. Some from the pub, and some from the incident with the reporters at Bart's. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Sherlock cleared his throat. "You can't believe everything you read in the papers Mrs. Hudson." he said calmly, and took another sip of tea. But he also gave her a small smile.

"Sherlock, you're kissing Molly!" then she looked at John, dropping her voice a bit as if Sherlock then couldn't hear her. "Did you know that he was... like this, when you two lived together?"

John pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before responding. "Wouldn't have been my business Mrs. Hudson! Sherlock can snog whoever he wants! I couldn't care less!" he yelled.

"Bit unexpected Sherlock! I had no idea she'd appeal to you in the least!" she added, looking back to the detective. "I just might have to check this video as well. The article says there's a video on YouTube."

Sherlock set his empty cup down then and stood to button his suit jacket. "Well Mrs. Hudson, I'd say you're the only person I can think of that rightly deserves to watch that video. Because we both know that I've discovered some rather unseemly history of yours on YouTube. So I'd say, it's only fair."

He then strolled over to give her a kiss on the cheek as she continued to stare down at the pictures and shake her head in shock. Then Sherlock exited the flat with John following him.

"You think she'll ever get it?" John asked as they flew down the stairs.

"Not likely." Sherlock answered honestly. "We could both be married to women with three children each, and she'd still have her own ideas."

Sherlock then opened the front door and the flashes went off. They both stood with the microphones and video cameras in their faces and Sherlock answered a few questions about the case. He was just about to say good evening and turn around to leave when...

"Sherlock! Are you and Dr. Molly Hooper involved in a relationship?"

Suddenly the flashes all went off again and Sherlock glanced at John, though he tried not to make any clearly readable facial expression. He then scanned the crown of reporters and saw their faces all light up and watch him expectantly.

He considered his options. Of course he could say 'no comment' and simply turn around and leave again. But he began to think that it could possibly speed the process of boring these reporters if he were to give them answers, but make them the most un-amusing, and simple answers available. Saying no comment could actually leave them to their own deductions, which were currently running wild. So he opened his mouth.

"No, we are not." he answered flatly.

Another reporter asked, "Were you ever in a relationship?"

"We never were."

"Are you in love with Dr. Hooper?" another one asked.

"I am not."

"Was the kiss in the pub case related?" came another question.

"It was not."

"Can you tell us why you kissed Dr. Hooper?" yet another reporter asked.

And just as Sherlock was formulating an answer to this question, another one followed quickly on it's heels.

"Did you kiss Molly because she helped you fake your suicide three years ago?"

Sherlock mentally stopped in his tracks and his face turned stony. He scanned the small crowd that watched him with baited breath. And he scanned it again, and again. John began looking back and forth from the reporters to Sherlock who was frowning and looking back at them. Finally Sherlock opened his mouth to speak again. But something had changed in his eyes.

"As I have said before, I do not discuss anything about my faked death and subsequent disappearance beyond what I've already shared. I'll thank you not to ask me about it again... Good evening." then he turned and quickly went back through the door with John following, as the reporters kept yelling out more questions.

Once the door was shut and locked Sherlock flew up the stairs and John hurried after. They got in the flat and shut the door and John frowned at his friend.

"What was that? What happened down there?"

"John, I need to go see Molly." he said quickly as he went down the hall and into his bedroom. John followed, watching him in confusion as he opened his window.

"Out the... fire escape?" he questioned.

"Yes, out the fire escape."

"Uh, right ok... Why? What's going on?"

"I don't know who asked me that question."

"What question?" John asked as Sherlock was already halfway out the window.

"The last question, about Molly and her helping me fake my death. I heard them all speak, and that question didn't come from any of them. Either someone was hiding among them, or it was a recording."

"Meaning..."

"Meaning someone other than the reporters cares about that subject! And I can think of someone who might. Someone who's recently shown his face again. Someone who might be very sorry they underestimated the worth of a certain pathologist many years ago." Sherlock said with a somber look back at John as he set both feet down on the fire escape.

John's eyes widened and his mouth hung open for a second. "Oh God..."

"Not quite... I need to go speak to her. I just can't have anyone knowing I ran off to her flat at the moment, thus the fire escape. Go ahead and go home to Mary. I'll keep you informed... The fact is though," he said as he began to take the first two steps down the ladder. "that this may be the very worst time for me to appear to be in love with Molly Hooper."

* * *

Molly sat propped comfortably in bed reading her book and getting more and more emotionally invested as the pages were turned. What a lovely way to spend her evening, blissfully forgetting her problems for a brief moment and enjoying the angst of others in the written word. She wished the respite wasn't so brief, but she was enjoying it all the same.

She had no idea how very brief it was going to be.

She clearly heard the window's lock being picked. Her first reaction was to jump out of bed, and she began scanning the room for something to throw. Then she thought about simply grabbing her phone and leaving the flat... Then she saw the dark curly head in the fading sunlight.

Molly then took a deep breath, trying to make her blood pressure come down. She took a seat on her bed again and crossed her arms in expectation of his entrance. A minute or so later, the window finally swung open and Sherlock came in feet first. He landed on the floor still facing the means of his entrance. He fixed his coat, ran hands roughly through his hair, then turned around to see her sitting there. He didn't even flinch.

"Ah Molly, you're home. I knew you would be." he said with a smile.

"Right. Yes, here I am. Can I... help you with something?" and she couldn't help finding it endearing in the moment that he was so incredibly oblivious to the awkwardness of this scenario.

"Molly, have you spoken to any reporters in the past day? Have they asked you any questions that were different from the ones you were already asked?"

Molly rolled her eyes then. "No Sherlock. I haven't spoken to them. In fact I've been home today. I took a couple personal days from work. In fact I was _advised _to take them!"

"Oh good! Good." he said and looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Why are you so worried that I'll speak to them?"

"I have good reason Molly! Obviously I would, if I bothered to come all the way over here, and break into your window in order to be discreet! Not that your window is at all difficult to break into!" he said, his tone quickly moving to one of irritation.

Molly looked up at him with an expression of hurt. And a voice inside Sherlock, maybe it was John's or maybe it was even his own, told him to stop and take a step back. Molly needed to understand what was going on. He needed for her to trust him. And this was not how to earn Molly Hooper's trust. It wouldn't work to barge in and just give her a list of instructions. First she needed to be reminded of _why _he cared to even be here in the first place. And there needed to be some kindness involved. It wasn't hard either, when he stopped and looked at her, to remind himself that this was the woman who once saved his life...

"Molly," he began again, taking a seat a couple feet away from her on the little bed. "forgive me. If I've made you believe that I don't trust you with the reporters, I'm sorry. I don't trust them, but that's all. I don't believe that you have one malicious bone in that little body of yours. So even though I know that you don't always approve of me or my actions, I know you'd never do or say anything to hurt me or discredit me. And I know you'd never lie about me, unless it was to protect me."

She stared back at him, thinking that he knew her just about as well as he could. It was all true of course. It didn't matter how angry she got at him, or disappointed she was in his choices. She'd never want anything but for him to be safe and happy... _I'm not Jeanine_she thought to herself.

"You're right. I'm glad you know that. I'd hate to think you don't trust me like you used to." she said quietly, and offered a smile.

"I've always trusted you Molly, and I always will. But right now, I need you to trust me... If anybody asks you about what happened three years ago, when you helped me fake my death, do not answer any questions. In fact, just run. And then tell me immediately."

Molly frowned and began to look genuinely worried. "Why? What's going on?"

"Molly, I'm afraid somebody is taking interest in your involvement those years ago. Somebody asked me a questions about it today. I'm not sure who, but I believe it was not a reporter. They asked me if that was why I kissed you."

"Yes, I saw it on the news." she said.

"Nobody has bothered to ask me about that time period till now. It was so long ago, and most of the focus has been on the past couple days. So the question was unusual. I hope I'm wrong, but my fear is that the interest is coming from Moriarty."

Molly had a visible change in breathing pattern and her eyes doubled in size. "What? B-but we don't even know if he's alive! I mean, maybe he's not. And even if he is, what would he care? I- I'm nobody really! I mean, you could have pulled it off without me, I know you could have." she spouted off, desperately trying to come up with good reasons to make herself feel safer.

"You're probably right. If I didn't happen to know a woman who worked in a morgue and who was willing to risk everything for me..." he took a deep breath. "I would have come up with something else. However, I did go to you. And perhaps that's not even what interests him most. Perhaps he's as drawn in by recent media coverage as everyone else is... A good fairy tale." Sherlock said quietly, looking off into space for a second.

"I saw it though Sherlock." she said softly. "I saw you tell them that we're not together. And that... you're not in love with me."

Sherlock gave her a half smile that was half comfort and half apology. "Even I know enough to realize that my actions of late would suggest otherwise to the public."

Molly looked at her hands in her lap and pressed her lips together, unable to meet his eyes. But she nodded, realizing that he was correct.

"Moriarty hates boredom perhaps even more than I do. He won't do the same thing twice. He's not going to waltz in and threaten the lives of John and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson... You though, you're different." his voice dropped lower.

She hazarded a glance then, and met his blue green eyes as he continued.

"As much as I cared about those three friends, that's all they ever were. And Moriarty would have known enough about me to know that's all they ever could be. I was never going to fall in love with John, or Lestrade, or Mrs. Hudson." and he gave a unique expression of distaste to each of the names as he spoke them, and Molly couldn't help a brief smile of amusement.

"But you... I would by lying if I said that Moriarty could say the same about you. In his mind you could at least possess the possibility of- of something more. And although he never got the impression that I cared years ago, I've given him ample evidence to the contrary these past couple of days. And so, I may have inadvertently put a target on your back. For that, of course, I am sorry."

Molly drew a breath and let it out slowly. This certainly changed things. She really didn't want to think about the fact that she could be a target of Moriarty. It was terrifying. She had felt so brave when it had come time to save Sherlock. But she didn't feel so brave when it came to protecting herself. She also realized though, that she needed to become the woman she was three years ago if she was going to face this same danger again. For her sake and for Sherlock's. Nothing would be gained by turning to mush.

"Ok so... what do we do? Should we try to act like we hate each other or something?"

"That would be tricky. We have to continue working together. We can't avoid each other completely. And beyond that, if we took it to an extreme to appear at odds, it would probably look suspicious. I'm not sure that we can erase what we've- what I've cause the past couple of days. It's a bit late. Unfortunately, it doesn't even matter now if we aren't together. I've planted an idea, and it has grown rather quickly in everyone's mind. Now, everyone _wants _us to be together." and his eyes widened briefly as he spoke the words.

"Yeah, I know" Molly said with an embarrassed chuckle. "They ship us."

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock frowned. "Ship us? Ship us where?"

Molly laughed again. "Ship, like, short for relationship. When you say you ship two people, you mean you want them to be in a relationship. Like, for example, you ship John and Mary."

He stared back at her evenly, considering this. "That has to be the most ridiculous expression I've ever heard in my life. I can't imagine the level of stupidity for somebody to actually come up with such a thing on purpose!... Though I do in fact ship John and Mary." he added quickly.

"Yes, I know you do." she giggled.

"Anyway, look, my point in speaking to you was to make you aware. I want you to be alert to anything you think is odd. Tell me immediately if you see or hear anything that makes you uneasy. And trust me that I would do everything in my power to make sure that nothing would happen to you. I owe you at least that."

"So you're, repaying a debt?" she asked, and it was fine if that's how he was defining this.

"No... I'm protecting a friend." he said softly.

"Oh." she breathed out, feeling her cheeks color a little. She tucked her hair behind her ears before looking back at him. "Thanks."

He smiled warmly and nodded. There was a moment where they were frozen like that, then Sherlock got up and went back toward the window. After he opened the window, he turned back to her again when she addressed him.

"I take it you've seen the video and all the pictures then?" she asked slowly.

"Naturally... And you?" he asked.

"I have." she answered with a small nod.

"Right... No shock to us, I suppose."

"No, none." Molly answered quickly, then kicked herself for the silliness of the next statement when she added. "We were there."

Sherlock nodded slowly and pressed his lips together, before releasing them again. But he said nothing as he looked back at her.

They both appeared a bit unsure for a moment. There was still something hanging in the air. Molly considered asking the question that haunted her lips. _Why did you really kiss me?_ She was beginning to wonder if she really knew the answer. She had thought she knew, but now the seed of doubt had been planted and begun to grow... But the moment passed and she decided that it was a question for another day, and another time.

"Well, I'll say goodnight then." Sherlock finally said.

"Right. Yes, goodnight Sherlock." she said as naturally as possible, and smiled.

And then he climbed quickly back out the window, closing it behind him.

A moment later, Toby jumped onto the bed, now more comfortable that the intruder had left his bedroom. He curled up next to Molly and began purring and she absentmindedly scratched his head as she continued looking at the window, even though it was now still and there was nobody behind it. Then she looked down at her cat and smiled at the face that couldn't smile back.

"Well Toby, let's just pray he doesn't discover Tumblr."

* * *

"Hello, brother." Mycroft answered. "Exactly where have you been? Clearly not at Baker Street."

"Very good deduction. But you should have known where I went... Which brings me to my reason for calling. I need you to watch Molly Hooper." he said as he navigated behind the buildings for a while. He didn't want to get back on the main street and hail a cab till he was far enough away from Molly's flat.

"Don't be stupid Sherlock. I'm already watching her."

"I know... watch her more. Up the surveillance. Up it as high as you can. She may be a target now. I don't want to be taking any chances."

"You're one to talk. Isn't it you who took the chance? Perhaps you should learn to control your urges brother mine." and Sherlock could easily see the sneer over the phone.

"Oh just do it!" Sherlock hissed. "Do your best to remember she helped save my life!"

"It's already done Sherlock." he answered in a more serious tone. "It was as good as done the moment you asked. You know that. Just do me a favor, and be more careful. If you can't take care of your own goldfish, perhaps you just shouldn't have any."

There was a moment of silence, then Sherlock finally responded. "Thank you Mycroft... Good night." and then the line went dead.

He finally left the alleys behind the buildings soon after, and then hailed a cab to take him back home. Once he could relax in the back seat of the cab, he took out his mobile and sent out a message to all his homeless network as well. He sent instruction to keep an eye out for Molly Hooper's safety, as well as reporting anything out of the ordinary to him. He trusted Mycroft, but he also believed in covering all your bases.

Along with the message, he also sent a picture of her. And the best he could do was to grab the newspaper that was sitting in that back seat with him and snap a couple pictures from the article about himself and Molly. He sent a shot of the closest picture taken as they stood on the curb outside of Bart's the day before. Her face was easily visible, so it served the purpose.

Sherlock scanned the pictures in the article with an analytical eye once his text had been sent off. He sighed to himself as he looked them over. He felt like an idiot. It was as if he'd handed Moriarty all the leverage he could ever want on a silver platter.

And he dearly hoped he wouldn't find himself on the losing side this time.

* * *

_**Ok! So I'm a bit nervous, but I am going to go there... Moriarty involvement! He and Sherlock are both so infinitely much smarter than me, and it frightens me to write about both of them in one story, but I plan to do my best and I hope everyone enjoys it. It'll still be fun stuff too though!**_

_**Also, as you can see, I plan to make mention of a number of kinds of social network throughout this story. Including Tumblr. Now, I'm not a Tumblr user myself. So if any of my readers are, I'd very much appreciate a little lesson in the Tumblr vernacular and just double check some things about usage and content. I looked some things up myself, but sometimes it's just not the same to read about it on Wikipedia. Might be better to come from an experienced Tumblr user! If you'd like to give me some tips, please Private Message me. Thanks in advance! ;)**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Here we have chapter five readers! Many thanks to those of you who gave me lessons about Tumblr. Mistykins06 was especially detailed and gave me some very important pointers, so thanks very much! ;) I don't get into too much Tumblr usage detail yet, but I think it'll be important for me to understand. Just so I don't end up sounding super clueless! I continue to enjoy all your reviews more than I can say. I've never had such a large number of reviews for a story. Keep them coming please! It's extremely motivating! Ok, hope you enjoy the latest! ;)**_

* * *

"You don't want coffee do you? Please say no. I'm so sick of smelling that heavenly aroma and not being able to enjoy it myself!" Mary said bitterly.

John chuckled. "Ok then, no. No thank you, no coffee for me." And he kissed Mary's head. He figured he could just as easily make some coffee at Baker Street. He then sat down next to her at the table, where she was sitting with her own tea and laptop.

"Mary, is that your Tumblr account?" he asked, scrunching up his face as he looked over the page.

"Mm hm. Yeah it is. Why?"

"Um, you seem to have a lot of things on here about Sherlock and Molly." he said eyeing his wife with a frown.

"I'm sorry, I think it's nice. I just, I don't know... I think they'd be great together." she said with a shrug.

"Sherlock? I'm not sure Sherlock would be _great _with anyone. You have met him. I mean, you know what he's like. It's miraculous I survived living with him. I can't imagine a woman being in a relationship with him. And I don't count Jeanine! Because that wasn't Sherlock. Not really."

"But Molly knows him. She gets him! And I also think she gets _to _him. I mean it's hard to deny when you look at the evidence!" And Mary turned the laptop slightly so that the screen was more visible to John.

"Oh you mean all this _evidence?_" John laughed. "You're as bad as the rest of them! Sure, if you watch the same twenty second video over and over again you're bound to become brain washed eventually. I mean honestly Mary, lots of people kiss. That does not mean they are always destined to be together forever! It's all so ridiculous when you think about it."

"John, it's not just the kiss. Have you watched it? I mean really watched it carefully? You have to watch his face. Look at his face right after!" and she scrolled down to show him the slow motion gif that was playing.

John sighed and watched as it played. Sherlock pulled slowly away from Molly's lips and his eyes locked onto hers. And they stayed locked. The invisible electricity held their faces close and ignited his friend's eyes, and it took a while still for Sherlock's hands to slid from Molly's face. Then the loop began again.

John shrugged and shook his head a little. "Mary, I explained why Sherlock did it. He could've been, you know, still putting on a show. Even after the kiss was over."

"John, I didn't only know how to kill people in my past life. I also knew how to read them. And let me tell you, Sherlock Holmes is no exception." she said with a bit of pride as she crossed her arms over her large stomach.

John shook his head again. He couldn't argue with his wife's skills in that regard. But he was still having a hard time imagining that what Mary was suggesting could actually be true. He also knew that Mary's opinion of Sherlock and Molly was the least of their worries. In fact, she may be able to put her many skills to use.

"Well do me a favor and at least keep a watchful eye as you're blogging away. Sherlock thinks Moriarty could end up targeting Molly. If you see anything that strikes you as odd or threatening, get in touch with Sherlock immediately. This isn't exactly all fun and games anymore." and he got up to grab his keys and wallet.

"Well then," she said, also getting up with some difficulty, and then wrapping her arms around her husband's neck. "I think I am exactly who you want to be at the forefront of social media. I will now consider myself on a mission. The perfect mission for an ex assassin who's pregnant and stuck at home."

"Have I mentioned lately that I'm a little bit crazy about you?" he smiled down at her.

"Mm, not since yesterday." Mary smirked and then pressed a kiss on his lips.

"I'll call you later ok? No having the baby without me!" he teased as he left the flat.

* * *

Sherlock sat hunched over his laptop when John entered the flat. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his hair looked more out of control than usual, and his expression was contorted in something like confusion or horror or maybe worry.

"John," he said, not even looking up. "this has got to be the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I was willing to let it go. Deal with the temporary humiliation, until things simply cooled down on their own. But now I can't do that, No! I can't just ignore it all, now I have to keep an eye on it! Now, the safety of a friend is at risk, so I have to comb through all that the internet has to offer in the way of Sherlolly propaganda! I think, John... that I'd go to Eastern Europe right now if I could."

"You don't mean that!" he laughed as he took a seat.

"No, of course I don't mean that. I am, however, making a point about how especially distasteful this is." and he sighed loudly as he tapped away at the keyboard.

John smirked to himself as he watched Sherlock scroll through what looked like a Tumblr feed. He could only imagine the things he had encountered thus far. He almost enjoyed watching his friend suffer in this rather amusing way, but he had to be honest...

"So, what would you say if I told you that I've hired a very qualified and willing participant to monitor all that social media has to offer in the way of, as you say, Sherlolly propaganda?" and John smiled proudly as Sherlock's head snapped around to look at him.

"What? Who? Hired who?" he asked rapid fire.

"Oh, you know, my wife. Mary." John smiled again.

Sherlock's eyes widened. "Oh thank God!" then he immediately jumped up from his seat and closed his laptop with a loud snap. Then he took a couple steps over to arrive at his chair and he collapsed into it with a thump.

"Feel better?" John asked, trying not to laugh.

"John, I've seen things..." he said in a deadly serious tone, and closed his eyes momentarily before they shot open again as if he'd then been greeted be the memories in his head. "...which cannot be unseen."

John could no longer hold back the laughter. This was a man who'd seen horrific crime scenes, dealt with the worst sort of criminals, and even committed the crime of murder. And this was what he wished he could un-see? "People are creative aren't they?"

Sherlock inhaled deeply, then blew the breath out slowly. "Disturbingly so."

"Well, no need to be disturbed anymore. As I said, Mary is quite literally on the case."

"And I am forever grateful. I'll get in touch with her and make sure she knows what to look for in the way of suspicious activity and perhaps tell tale wording. But I can honestly say I have complete confidence that she is reliable and knows what she's doing."

"Of course she does... I chose her." John said with a smirk, remembering the conversation that took place in this very room. He was glad he could look back on the memory now with some fondness, instead of bitterness.

Sherlock smiled at that as well. Then he took out his mobile and shot off a text to Mary.

I HEAR YOU'RE ON THE CASE. WELCOME ABOARD. TRY TO BE ALERT TO ANYTHING UNUSUAL OR MENACING. SHARE ANYTHING WITH ME THAT YOU BELIEVE TO BE RELEVANT. MOLLY'S SAFETY MAY DEPEND ON IT. -SH

Not surprisingly, Mary responded with blinding speed.

I'LL HELP KEEP HER SAFE. DON'T WORRY. I'LL UPDATE YOU OFTEN. -MW

I AM MORE GRATEFUL THAN YOU KNOW... WILL TELL YOU IF THERE'S ANYTHING SPECIFIC YOU SHOULD LOOK OUT FOR. -SH

I KNOW YOU WILL. WOULDN'T WANT ANYTHING TO RUIN YOUR OTP... XO -MW

Sherlock chuckled to himself and then let out a contented sigh and set his mobile down. "Excellent! Now I can focus on other things!" and he clapped his hands together happily.

"Cases?" John asked, hoping the answer was yes since he'd come all the way over here.

"Cases indeed, John. Now _that _is something I can handle!"

* * *

They took a couple cases that day. Neither were higher than a six, and that was frustrating to Sherlock. He did bother to leave the flat anyway thought, simply for the benefit of distraction. There were times when focusing on any case was better than no case at all. Or in this instant... better than focusing on his _own _case.

But by five thirty in the evening they were back at Baker Street and John was getting ready to go home to Mary. Sherlock threw his suit jacket off and lay back on the couch, already bored out of his mind.

"Sherlock, are you um, you ok here? You can come back to our flat if you'd like." John often felt bad these days, when it was time to head home and there was Sherlock with nobody to keep him company. And John knew that the man needed company more than he'd like to admit.

"I'm fine."

_Course he was. _"Oh, by the way, a couple days ago when you snuck over to Molly's... how did that actually go? I didn't really talk to you yesterday, so I never heard anything more about it."

"It went fine. She understands the possible threat. Knows that she needs to be watchful and aware and all that. And also that she needs to keep any and all information about the events of three years ago to herself."

"Oh good... But um, is everything ok, I mean between you two? Seemed a little tense the day before that."

"Oh yes, that's fine too. I made her understand that I not only trust her but that I care about her safety and well being first and foremost and that that was the motivating factor behind my actions."

John nodded slowly. "So how did you do that exactly? Make her understand, I mean."

Sherlock paused and then turned his head so that he looked at his friend. With narrowed eyes he tried to deduce the actual meaning behind this question. Then he closed his eyes again and turned his head to its previous posture on the couch pillow as he answered.

"Oh you know John, the usual way... I threw her onto the bed and snogged her till there was no more breath left in my body." and he slowed down at the end of the sentence, punctuating each word for emphasis. Then he turned his head again and looked at John with a raised eyebrow.

John shook his head. "Yeah, very funny."

"Do me a favor John, do try to keep a level head in all of this. I can't have absolutely everyone around me falling victim to the plague of the internet's and the media's version of reality. If I can't count on anyone else, I'd like to think I can count on you to see what the reality truly is."

"Yeah, I know, relax Sherlock. I'm not planning a stag night for you or anything. I was just curious."

"Well if you're curious, the truth is that I used words. Words combined into sentences to explain that she is a friend, and she may be in danger, and I want to protect her. Not exactly fit for Tumblr, but there you have it."

John laughed on his way to the door. "It is beyond amusing, Sherlock, that you even know what is and isn't fit for Tumblr!"

"Believe me John, when this is all over, I will be directing all my energy into deleting what I know on the subject!"

"Oh come on, don't delete it all! How will you get the jokes when we tease you later?"

"Watch it John! Or I will not hesitate to start sharing with you some of the things that I saw about us!"

"Dear God, no! Keep your mouth shut, I am leaving!" John said with a grimace as he began exiting the flat. "Text me if we've got cases tomorrow."

"Mm." Sherlock replied, hoping that there would indeed be cases.

It was probably a half hour later when Sherlock finally opened his eyes to the silence around him. He'd spent enough time cataloguing the events of the day in his mind palace. That was done, and now he wanted something else to do...

His phone began buzzing around the table, alerting him to a message. He reached his arm over and groped around till he connected with the device and then looked at the screen. Two texts from Molly.

UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, I WOULD SAY YOU SHOULDN'T COME TO BARTS UNLESS IT'S AN EMERGENCY... BUT I DO HAVE SOMETHING I THINK YOU'LL WANT. -MH

That message was from twenty minutes ago, so another had followed more recently.

OK, NO SURPRISES I SUPPOSE. ITS AN ARM. -MH

Sherlock sat bold upright and his eyes widened. Oh, he could think of at least half a dozen... no, a dozen things he's like to do with that arm. It could keep him busy for days in the event of cases being slow going. He fired off a response.

A WHOLE ARM? -SH

A WHOLE ADULT MALE ARM... INTERESTED? -MH

Sherlock thought for about thirty seconds... Yes, this would be simple enough.

IN FIFTEEN MINUTES GO AND UNLOCK THE WINDOW IN THE WOMEN'S LOCKER ROOM. THEN LOCK THE DOOR FROM THE INSIDE AND HANG THE MAINTENANCE SIGN ON IT... PLEASE AND THANK YOU... I'LL BE THERE IN TWENTY. -SH

SEE YOU THEN. -MH

He happily jumped up and pulled his suit jacket and coat back on. This was turning out to be a good evening after all.

* * *

Sherlock landed on the floor of the women's locker room and then reached up to fix the lock again. He couldn't help but think that there's been an awful lot of entering and exiting rooms through windows since this whole mess with Molly had begun... He then ran hands through his hair as he made his way to the door. He opened it carefully, looking around the hallway. He left it unlocked and then swiped the maintenance sign to take with him. Then he made his way briskly down the quiet hallway till he got to the morgue.

Sherlock pushed his way through the door and Molly saw him right away.

"Oh hi. Right on time." she said with a smile and motioned for him to come over to the table where she stood and she began to open the large plastic box.

Sherlock came over and peered in. "Oh... look at that." he murmured in appreciation.

"Mm, lovely isn't it? You see why I bothered to make you risk the press."

"Oh, it was worth it... What were the circumstances? Not that it'll change the fact that I'm taking the arm."

"Prisoner was killed. Rather brutal I'm afraid. Poor man had no family though. So he was donated for teaching purposes... But I salvaged this bit." she said with a proud smile.

Sherlock responded with a sideways glance and a smile that made the effort more than worth it for her.

"It will be a bit more difficult to get this thing home though. Let's wrap it up in this ice. Then I'll carry it in a bag instead. Easier than this box."

"Agreed. I'll get a bag to wrap it in, and another large bag for the whole thing." She made her way over to the supply closet and came back a moment later with two bags. She also handed Sherlock some gloves to put on.

Before he could put the gloves on, his phone alerted him and he saw he had a message from Mary. This worried him for a moment, but he only rolled his eyes when he saw the message and followed the link.

"What? What is it?" Molly asked, seeing the expression change.

"Just beginning to question Mary's ability to maintain a professional work ethic, that's all."

"Oh, is she working with you two now?"

"Sort of... She's actually helping you. I've delegated the responsibility of monitoring our little _issue _on social media and the internet to her. Actually John delegated, much to my relief. Mary is aware that we want to watch out for anything that might indicate danger or threats, and she has more than the skills necessary to detect such a thing."

"Well, that's nice. Nice she's willing to help out, I mean." and Molly meant it. She was happy to hear that anybody at all was doing something to help keep them safe.

"Yes, she's terribly willing it seems. She may be enjoying her new job too much." Sherlock sighed. "She just sent me this."

Molly leaned over to look at Sherlock's mobile. The email was simply titled "Drama Queen." Then Sherlock touched the link and it played a gif which was all of about five seconds long. It was a slow motion clip of Sherlock as he had pulled his scarf off in the pub and threw it off behind him.

Molly couldn't help laughing. "Wow! That's... that's just glorious. I think I sort of missed the beauty of it in the moment."

Sherlock huffed a little as he put his phone back in his pocket. "I don't understand how someone is taking a two second moment and feels the need to slow it down and watch it over and over again! I mean what is the point? That's not even the kiss. Why does anybody care about me removing my scarf?"

Molly stared at him and frowned a little. "Um, that's a rhetorical question, right?"

"No. It's a _question _question!" he said with a sarcastic wag of his head as he pulled the gloves on.

"Because Sherlock!" she began, but found the words getting stuck behind her lips. _Oh relax, _she thought. _You're the one he kissed. You can say it. _"It's... it's sexy." and there was no helping how her voice dropped a bit.

"I'm sorry?" he laughed a little with his face contorted. "The removal of my scarf is sexy? What is the matter with all of you? No wonder you can't use your brains the way I can! You're all too busy thinking about things like that! And everyone wonders why I avoid relationships!"

"Of course you pulling your scarf off is sexy!" Molly asserted, gaining a little more confidence in the conversation. "You had to know that! Why else would you have done it?"

He pursed his lips and shrugged as he carefully wrapped the arm in the plastic bag. "It's a bit... bulky. I thought it might be in the way. Given the height disparity, it could have been... in your face. It made sense at the time!" he said in a slightly haughty tone.

Molly held the large bag open as Sherlock then tipped the box's contents of ice into it.

"Well then, how lovely and thoughtful I suppose." she giggled.

She was suddenly struck by the strangeness of the whole situation. Here she was, packing a cadaver arm into ice for Sherlock. And at the same time they were laughing about the particulars of the kiss they had recently shared. If she had told herself this six months earlier... In a million years she never would have believed it. No matter what the circumstances were. Given the comfort and ease of the moment, Molly decided to mention something else.

"So, um, Tom called me."

Sherlock shot a look at her for a second, before returning to the task of placing the wrapped arm in the ice filled bag.

"Did he?" he said calmly.

"Yes. He said that the uh, reporters have been trying to get to him too... He wasn't too pleased about the whole situation."

"Yes well, neither are we." Sherlock said, feeling no sympathy. But he added. "No reason for him to be angry at you though."

"Oh, well, he wasn't actually. He was more... upset at you." she said sheepishly.

Sherlock chuckled a little. "Am I supposed to be concerned?"

"Well, no, I suppose not. I'm just... telling you. So you'll know. In case you were ever to run into him."

"Thank you for the warning, I suppose. Not sure I'd need it though. Any man who imagines that a _meat dagger_ is an acceptable murder weapon is probably about as dangerous as your cat. I'd say that Tom is the very least of our problems."

Molly tried to still her laugh. Somehow it was still too recent, and it felt wrong to be laughing at Tom's expense with Sherlock. She didn't want to be one of those people who breaks up with a person and then begins cutting them down and laughing at them at every opportunity. But she also didn't want Sherlock to think...

"I'm not getting back together with him." she suddenly blurted out, and the second she'd said it, it sounded stupid to her.

Sherlock barely blinked, as usual. He looked briefly at her before finishing tying up the bag. "Good." was his simple answer.

She tried to contain the look of surprise. "Good?" she questioned.

"Yes... Good." he repeated, with a _why am I repeating myself _sort of expression.

"Oh ok... No, actually, I mean why? Why is that good?"

Sherlock drew a breath and then responded. "Well, I personally never cared for the man. He seemed dull, boring, and nowhere near you equal in intelligence. It would also be an inconvenient time to mend a broken engagement, seeing as you are plastered all over papers and the internet, kissing me... Oh, and I also didn't care for the constant comparison of appearance." and he wondered once it was said if he should have actually added that part.

Molly blushed then, and began taking her gloves off, glad to have something to put her hands to work with. "Yes, um, sorry about that."

"It's fine." he said quietly. _Is she apologizing for dating a man that was similar in appearance? What does that mean exactly? _The conversation was taking a turn that he wasn't sure he was willing to follow. And he had to admit it was partly his fault.

"I think I'm all packed up here." he said, breaking the subject off there.

"Right, yes. Looks like you are." and Molly was also rather grateful for the shift. She wasn't sure if she was ready to get into the 'why were you about to marry someone who looked like a Sherlock Holmes impersonator?' talk. It was a sort of embarrassing tale. One she wasn't terribly proud of. Probably the reason she'd gone with the old standby 'we met through friends' line. It was a stretch, but at the time, standing there in that stairwell, there was no way she was willing to explain why she really ended up dating Tom.

Sherlock gathered up the large, and now rather heavy bag, and made his way to the door.

"Isn't your shift over?"

"It is. I'll go out the front- no, it's fine. There were only a couple reporters today. I think they're getting discouraged already. It's looking hopeful." and she offered a smile.

"Well, that's something I suppose. Though social media is, likely to take much longer to die down. In fact that only seems to be growing stronger every day. I couldn't believe, when I was on Tumblr-"

"Oh God, you went on Tumblr?!" and she clasped a hand over her mouth.

Sherlock couldn't help a smile of amusement as the deep red blush spread up her neck and face.

"Clearly you have too." he chuckled. "Frightening, is it not?"

"I hope you didn't read anything! Or- oh God! I hope you didn't see any art work!" and she winced, awaiting his response.

Sherlock cleared his throat and tried to sound as neutral as possible. "I assure you Molly, I have seen a wide variety of... almost anything you can imagine... As a matter of fact, I hope that much of it you can't imagine."

Molly covered her face for a moment and groaned into her hands. This made him laugh a bit. Yes, he had been shocked at what he'd seen online in the past couple of days. But Molly's reaction fit squarely into the definition of mortified. The fact that she would be so disturbed at the fact that he had even seen some of the things that other people had made and written about them, it was a little funny.

"Yes well, you can see why I was happy to hand the social media watch dog job over to Mary."

Molly finally uncovered her face again and was willing to look at him, though the blush had hardly faded. "I can't believe you saw all of that. I searched... our hashtag, once. And that was enough. I just- I couldn't even- I couldn't!" she said shaking her head vigorously. She knew it was sort of silly to be so embarrassed by all of it, but she couldn't help it.

He chuckled some more as he left the morgue and she followed him down the hall back to the women's locker room. He went in and then leaned back out of the door way to smile at her fondly.

"Thank you Molly. I appreciate your going to the trouble of saving this for me."

"My pleasure." she smiled back, having regained some composure.

Suddenly Sherlock's gaze shot up and behind Molly, down the hallway. "What was that?" he questioned, being sure he'd heard a noise.

"I don't know. I don't see anyone." and Molly peered down the hall as well."Maybe just someone in maintenance. It is getting late."

"Did you lock up the morgue?"

"I did."

"Good. Come in here then." he said, opening the door up more and ushering her inside. "You need to get your things anyway."

And she did. She hung up her lab coat and got her bags from her locker. Then she turned to look at Sherlock who was unlatching the window.

"Care to go through the window?" he offered with a smile and a gesture to the opening on the wall. "You may as well."

Molly smiled slyly. "Are you worried about a little bump in the hallway?"

"Well you... can't be too careful."

"Ok, I suppose."

Sherlock began climbing out first. The window was ground level, which was about shoulder level for him. But that was too high for Molly to simply pull herself up through. Once Sherlock was on the ground she handed her bags to him. Then she sort of eyed the window and wondered how she'd manage this...

"Here, I'll help." he offered, seeing the problem as well. Sherlock knelt down on the ground leaning his arms and head back through the window. "Put your arms around my neck."

Molly tried really hard. She tried really really hard to shut off _that _part of her brain. But it wasn't easy to do. Once she reached up and did as he instructed and one of his arm locked around her back, a wave rushed over her. There was nowhere for her face to go except the curve of his neck and shoulder. There was nothing to smell but him. And there was no sound except that of his breathing near her ear. Up till then, she hadn't thought too hard about the memories of that kiss of a few days before. But now she couldn't help it. This felt so close. Being locked against him like this, she could almost feel his lips again. The memory was now so clear, she could literally almost taste it. And she was so lost in the vivid memory that she barely noticed as he used his other hand on the side of the window to push himself backward, and effortlessly pulled her from the window onto the pavement with him.

She slid her arms away from around his neck as she turned to sit on the ground, and realized that she was shaking. She was actually shaking. And she hoped that he wasn't being observant enough at the moment to notice.

Sherlock stood up and Molly purposely stood quickly on her own before he could offer a hand, worried that he'd feel it trembling. She was a little disturbed at the rush of feeling that such a brief contact had caused. And she was very sure that Sherlock should not be alerted to it.

"I'll just go round to the front and catch a cab." Molly said, steadying her voice and picking up her bags.

"Alright. I'm going to walk a couple blocks before I get one... Be careful." he said with a small nod.

"Yes... you too." and she nodded back before they parted ways.

Sherlock turned his collar up and walked briskly as he could, carrying the heavy bag. He was glad he'd come to the hospital. He appreciated Molly's thinking of him, even at a time like this. And he was glad he'd have something to keep busy with for the next few days or so. It was a bit of extra effort going in and out of Bart's at the moment. But it was worth it... for the arm.

All was well...

...Until the headlines were seen the next morning.

* * *

_**Alright, so this will probably be it for a good week or so. I'll be away for the next few days and very busy. Though really, how can any of us Sherlock fans complain about a week wait?! Hope you all got to see the twitter news from bbcone announcing the filming of the special in January '15 and the rest of the series later that year. Looking like a Jan '16 series premier at this point. It's sadly far away, but we did expect it to be... And at least we know for sure it's coming back! **_

_**But anyway I hope you all enjoyed this, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Positive or negative is fine as long as it's kind! Please and thank you!... Till next chapter! ;)**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**I'm back! So it's a week later, and I'm keeping my promise. Here we have the latest chapter! I don't want to be all negative or anything, but I feel like not much too thrilling happens in this update. I hope to come up with some slightly more exciting events in the near future, but for now this is what I have to offer haha! Hope you enjoy it anyway, and as always, let me know what you think! ;)**_

* * *

Sherlock groaned and rolled over on the couch, almost falling off the edge. His mobile buzzed around the table next to him. He looked at the screen and saw that Mary was calling... At seven in the morning.

"You'd better be having the baby." Sherlock mumbled.

"Morning Sherlock." she answered cheerily. "You tired?"

"Mm... I only just got to bed," and he glanced at his watch. "A few hours ago."

"Oh really? Late night then was it?" and he could hear her smiling over the phone.

"What are you smiling for? It's too early for smiling." he grumbled.

"Oh, I'd think you'd be the one smiling this morning Sherlock. Did you have fun last night?"

"I'm getting rather tired of people cryptically asking me if I had fun the previous night. Why am I being asked this time?"

"Maybe I should be more specific. Did you have fun at Bart's last night?"

Sherlock felt himself wake up more fully and he sat up on the couch, rubbing his face with his hand... Of course. He sighed heavily.

"Pictures?" he asked simply.

"Oh yes. A few good ones. The women's locker room Sherlock? Seriously? You _really _wanted to see her didn't you?" and Sherlock could see her smiling again.

"Don't get all excited. I had to go. It was- Molly had a... a whole arm."

Mary let out a peal of laughter. "Oh, Sherlock... If you think that's the most thrilling body part that Molly has to offer, you're not being very imaginative."

He rolled his eyes as he got up and stretched. "It was a _cadaver _arm! Obviously."

"Obviously!" she mimicked. "And it's just as obvious that you can't stay away from the woman for more than twenty four hours. If you're hoping to discourage the media's interest, this probably won't do the trick."

"I thought we were careful! Besides, I think it rather goes without saying that I don't care much about what people think of my personal life. If they chose to take every look and every move I make around Molly Hooper as proof of my undying love, then so be it. I won't have this affecting my work or my habits! I'll not stop going to Bart's just to discourage them. I can handle the tabloid headlines. I've done it before, and I certainly never lost sleep." he said smugly.

"Can she handle it?"

"Molly understands I'm trying my best to protect her. But I don't believe she would want to drastically alter our interactions either."

"Mm, I imagine she wouldn't."

"Stop being suggestive Mrs. Watson." Sherlock said pointedly.

She only giggled in response.

"Alright, tell me." Sherlock continued as he started water running for a bath. "What do they say?"

"Oh boy, it's good stuff! Let's see here, we have... 'Temperatures Rise In Bart's Morgue!' and 'Sherlolly Rendezvous In Bart's Basement!' and 'Romantic Deductions in Women's Locker Room!' Shall I go on?"

"Ugh! The locker room! I knew I heard something in the hallway! Probably was someone in maintenance, just like Molly said. Except that someone saw the opportunity to cash in with some mobile phone pictures!" and he ran his fingers through his hair, thinking that he should have seen this coming.

"Why did you pull her in the locker room with you?" Mary asked with a laugh.

"Because I heard the noise in the hallway! It was late, and her shift was over. So we both left through the window. I was trying to be... careful."

"Nicely done detective."

"And the pictures? Are they all from the hallway?"

"Yes. You're talking to her in the doorway in a couple, but then there a couple more where you're putting your arm around her and pulling her in the locker room with you."

"Well... at least the pictures ended there."

"Why?" Mary said in a sing song voice. "What happened in the locker room?!"

Sherlock sighed loudly. "_Obviously _nothing! I simply helped her out of the window! Though that involved a significant amount of physical contact, and therefore would provide a greater amount of ammunition for the internet masses. That's _all _I meant!"

"Ooh, sorry Sherlock, I think you were cutting out there for a moment. All I heard was 'significant amount of physical contact.' Oh well, I heard the important part right?" and he could hear her trying to contain giggling.

"I don't care if you're married to John, or if you could kill me in one shot. I will not hesitate to confiscate all your internet enabled devices Mary Watson!" he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh sure!" she said mockingly. "I'll be glad to hand the job back over to you. Where would you like to start searching today? There's the videos, and then there's the fan art. Oh, and there's my personal favorite, the fan fiction. There's a lovely little one just up this morning all about the details of your visit to Bart's last night. Lots and lots of detail... Would you like to hear?"

"Stop stop!" he finally said, and added wearily, "Yes, never mind, you're hired again... do carry on."

"Mm, I thought so. Sorry, Sherlock, but if I'm going to do this for you you're going to have to put up with hearing my comments on the matter. I'm not gonna hold back just because you're still bent on ignoring your own feelings."

"I don't have _feelings!_" he hissed.

Mary chuckled on the other end of the line, then let out a sigh. "Sherlock, don't forget what I told you."

"What's that?"

"I'm not John... I can tell when you're fibbing." and then she hung up.

He set the phone down and then began quickly unbuttoning his shirt in preparation to climb in the bath he'd started. He huffed to himself and shook his head as he pulled his shirt roughly off his arms.

"Not _fibbing._" he mumbled to himself forcefully. And just then, he heard his phone again.

BIT OF A PROBLEM... MY SUPERVISOR WANTS TO SEE ME ABOUT THE PICTURES FROM LAST NIGHT. I'M GUESSING YOU'VE SEEN ALREADY. :( -MH

Sherlock sighed. This wasn't surprising.

I HAVE, YES. JUST DO YOUR BEST TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE PICTURES, AND FOR MY PRESENCE IN THE LOCKER ROOM. BUT DON'T TELL HIM WHY I WAS ACTUALLY THERE. -SH

WELL YES, I CERTAINLY CAN'T TELL HIM YOU WERE ACTUALLY THERE TO PICK UP AN ARM. BUT WHAT DO I SAY INSTEAD? -MH

Sherlock took a deep breath and paused for a second, then typed off a response.

JUST TELL HIM I WANTED TO SEE YOU. -SH

OH... OK. YOU SURE? -MH

WE CAN'T HAVE YOU LOSING YOUR JOB AT BART'S. BESIDES, MY WANTING TO SEE YOU IS HARDLY THE WORST THING BEING SAID ABOUT US LATELY. -SH

THANKS SHERLOCK. :) -MH

Soon after, Sherlock climbed into the warm water and laid his head back against the tub. He closed his eyes and tried to relax a bit.

He didn't care what people thought of him. He really didn't. He never had in any other aspect of his life, and this should be no different. Sherlock wasn't bothered much by all manner of beliefs about him which ranged from him being an asexual virgin, to being some sort of a womanizer who was using someone like Jeanine purely for his own emotionless gratification. Nothing in the large range of opinions affected his work. He was still the world's only consulting detective. And a successful one too. And that's all that really mattered. If the idiots of the world wanted to speculate about what he did or didn't do when the cases were solved and the door of Baker Street was shut and locked, that was their problem. Not his.

But he had to admit that there was something unsettling about the opinions about himself and Molly. And it was separate from the concern about Moriarty's interest. Almost every rumor he heard about himself was nothing but a bunch of silly words that he had no problem deleting and brushing off. But this felt different. Perhaps it was the fact that he'd actually been the direct cause of this rumor, and he had nobody to blame but himself. Or perhaps it was the fact that it was affecting the life of an actual friend, and not just himself. Or perhaps it was because it was something he couldn't so easily escape from mentally and physically.

Whatever the reason, he had to admit that it plagued his mind more than he thought it should... But! He still vowed that it wouldn't change his life. Working with Molly Hooper was an important part of his life and work. He needed the little pathologist who worked at Bart's. And he refused to change that because of a few Tweets and fictional stories. He promised himself that he'd change nothing, unless the actual safety of Molly depended on it.

He took in a deep breath and dipped his head beneath the water for a moment, trying to clear his head... It was disturbing though, the way the sensory effects of the warm water hitting his mouth then brought recent memories flooding back, reminding him of other warm feelings against his lips. And the way the water filling his ears turned all other sounds in his flat into a dull hum, reminding him of the way every other deafening noise in a crowded pub had suddenly become ten times quieter...

Sherlock surfaced quickly, wiping his face and pushed his hair back again while gulping air.

It was probably best to stay above water for now.

* * *

Two days later, Sherlock was pacing around Lestrade's office and demanding to be given a case.

"Sherlock, I can't just make a serial murder case appear out of nowhere! I'm not the one that commits the crimes!"

"Well, can't you start doing so in your spare time? It would help me immensely!" he retorted sarcastically.

Just then Lestrade got a call. He was trying to stay over to the side of the room despite Sherlock's edging his way closer to try and overhear. Finally he said goodbye and hung up, having not said much to indicate what the call was about.

"Well?" Sherlock demanded.

"Look, this isn't really your area Sherlock. Sounds like it just a matter of confirming identity. An abandoned house was being demolished and some remains were discovered underneath the bottom floor. The man who lived there twenty years ago had claimed his wife left him and nobody ever found where she went. Sort of looks like this is where she went." and Lestrade pulled his coat on.

Sherlock clapped his hands together. "Excellent! I'll come along."

"Why? The man who lived there died ten years ago and everyone knew he was a nut job who used to beat his wife! There's nothing to solve if that is the woman we think it is."

"So?" he questioned, looping his scarf around his neck. "Remains under a house, and you think I wouldn't want to see? Do we not know each other?"

Greg Lestrade chuckled as they left the office. "Ok fine. Oh, and we'll need to pick up Molly. She can collect the remains and then take it back to Bart's for the official testing... Think you'll be able to keep your hands to yourself today?" and he took out his phone, sending off a text to the pathologist.

"Again, Inspector Lestrade, do we know each other?" he repeated.

Lestrade smile to himself as they left the building. "Good question Sherlock. I'd venture to say, not as well as I thought."

"Don't get carried away Lestrade. A detective inspector shouldn't be so easily swayed by the media." Sherlock answered in a tone of superiority.

He laughed in response as they got into his car. "I'm swayed by what I saw with my own two eyes Sherlock! That was a serious kiss!"

Sherlock didn't respond and stared out the window as they began driving. Then Lestrade went on.

"I mean I realize you were trying to prove us all wrong or something, but come on! You're not dead either! You had to have enjoyed that."

Sherlock cleared his throat and finally turned to look at Lestrade with a frown. "Why yes. I very much enjoyed the look on all your faces." and he grinned.

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you're smart enough to know that's not what I meant. And evading the question is another way of answering the question! Don't think I can't see that!"

Sherlock made a face of mock surprise and gave a little gasp. "My my, are you practicing your skills of deductive reasoning? Rather impressive. I must say, you're about as far off base as you could possibly be, but excellent try all the same. Perhaps someday, with loads of practice you won't have use for me anymore!"

"Getting defensive too eh? I don't think I'm as far off as you say... But we won't argue about it Sherlock. It's your life, and it you want to live in denial, that's your right. Course, it's just a shame you're stringing Molly along for the ride."

Sherlock then narrowed his eyes at the detective, a bit of anger creeping in. "Stringing Molly along? I think you'll find that Molly Hooper is in no way confused about where she and I stand with each other."

Lestrade's expression changed. The teasing gleam in his eyes and the laughter faded away, and he looked at Sherlock with a seriousness that wasn't there before. Because he realized that Sherlock really may not understand what he was doing. Not in a case like this at least. And then he felt a little sorry for his friend. So his tone was different when he answered.

"You sure about that Sherlock?" Lestrade asked more gently, peering into the detective's icy eyes.

Sherlock looked back at him evenly, opened his mouth slightly, closed it again, and then turned back to look out the window. But Lestrade was sure he saw a little deviation in those eyes. A moment of question and doubt. And he hoped it was enough to make Sherlock think.

"Molly's coming out to meet us." Lestrade said a few minutes later as they pulled up near the front of the hospital. Then he looked over at Sherlock as they noticed Molly leaving the front door and making her way towards them. He began to offer, but was cut off. "You want me to-"

"No, I'll do it." Sherlock said immediately, and got out of the car.

There were more tabloid reporters hanging around again based on the locker room pictures from a couple days before. So they got excited when Sherlock got out of the police car and walked quickly over to hover a hand on the small of Molly's back and usher her over to get in the back seat of the car. Lestrade drove off quickly the second that Sherlock's door shut.

"How do you deal with that all the time Sherlock?" Molly asked from the back seat as she breathed a sigh of relief.

"I don't. I've never been this wildly popular with reporters before. They were interested before of course. But never like this... Perhaps you're actually more popular than I am." and Sherlock turned his head slightly so that his smirk was visible to Molly in the back, but he didn't see the way she smiled back.

But Lestrade saw it in the rear view mirror. He saw it clear as day.

* * *

Molly sat on her knees, examining the skeletal remains in the dirt hole. There were bits of garbage bag around the area, clearly having completely covered the body many years before. She gingerly used her gloved hand and slid a pair of rings off the finger that was now just a bone. She placed them in an evidence bag and put them aside.

Sherlock came and crouched down next to her, peering down as well. Molly immediately ran through her discoveries, knowing that's what he wanted to hear.

"Woman in her forties or fifties, so I'd venture to say that this is who they think. And they're trying to rustle up a picture form somewhere that has her wearing her rings. That'll help. Dental records too of course."

"Family?"

"No. Her extended family seem to be deceased or never had any contact. And thank God they had no children. Not the sort of discovery they'd appreciate... Poor woman." she breathed softly, looking down in the hole. And there was a slight tremor in her voice.

Sherlock looked at her in genuine wonder. He was usually challenged on a daily basis at feeling for the people who were living, breathing, and closest to him. And here, on the other end of the spectrum, Molly Hooper could look into a dirt hole where there was nothing but a pile of bones... and she could feel hurt for this long dead stranger. And in a rare moment of feeling on his part, before he could begin to rethink the impulse, Sherlock placed a hand on her small shoulder and gave it a squeeze of comfort.

The second he did it, he wondered if he should have resisted. Her head turned and eyes locked onto his, with an expression that was half shock and half... something much softer. Something terrifyingly soft. Partly terrifying because he kept looking back at her, and couldn't turn away for just a moment. Finally he remembered to blink, and he stood, causing his hand to leave the place it had been on her shoulder. He placed his hands protectively in his pockets then, and focused back on the hole in the ground.

Molly got to her feet as well and she called to Greg.

"Have you got all the pictures you need? I'm ready to get her back to Bart's if you're all set."

"Actually, the rest of us might be a while here. You know how these things usually end up going." he said apologetically. "You don't need to stick around if you don't want. I can have her taken back to Bart's and you can deal with it tomorrow. Probably won't be able to get the dental records before then anyway."

"Oh ok, that's fine. No problem. I'll just head back then. My shift doesn't end till eleven, so I may end up being able to start some of the paperwork later. If you get her there within the next few hours."

"I'll text you, ok?" Greg said with a wave and then rushed over to talk to another investigator.

Molly turned back to Sherlock then with a small smile. "Well, I'll be heading back then."

Sherlock nodded, and Molly started to slowly turn and head for the exit of the half torn down home. And for some reason, he followed.

"Had dinner yet?" he asked as he easily caught up and walked to the road next to her.

"Um, no, I suppose not." she said with a small frown of surprise at the question. "I'll get a bite when I get back to Bart's."

They stopped at the edge of the road and Sherlock stared out into the evening air for a moment. Then he looked back down at her and spoke after drawing a breath.

"When are you expected back?"

"I'm, not sure." she answered hesitantly. "They know I was needed at a crime scene, so I'm not sure when anybody expects me back."

Sherlock pursed his lips. "Well, you'd have time for some real food then." and he grinned.

"Real food?"

"Yes." and he raised his arm to hail a cab. "You never did go to that fish shop I mentioned last year."

Molly froze. Sherlock glanced back with his arm still raised, and saw the way she stood staring at him in question.

"What?" he asked.

"You uh, you think that's a good idea? I mean, that's a rather... public place, isn't it? I just thought that maybe we- Or maybe you would rather not be seen..."

"Molly, have you ever known me care what people think?" he questioned, causing the bridge of his nose to crinkle in that especially lovely way.

"I suppose not. But, what about safety?"

He smiled and gestured to himself, looking pleased. "You're with me."

Molly couldn't help but laugh a little. Apparently the man considered himself to be the very embodiment of the safest place available. It was actually incredibly endearing. Molly's smile spread a bit as she finally answered.

"Ok, sure... why not?"

* * *

_**So there you have it! I'm already working on chapter 7, so maybe it won't be too far behind this one... Another totally separate note though! So one of my readers had suggested that I look into using another fan fiction site in addition to this one. Perhaps lots of you already know of it. Archive Of Our Own. The plus with that site is that you can download stories to a device. So you can read it whether you have internet connection or not. In case anyone is happy about that news, I am currently uploading this story on there. And I plan to start uploading some of my past stories as well. I'm under the same name as this site, so you can find me super easily! Ok, that's it! Thanks again for the impressive number of follows, favorites, and reviews... You guys are incredibly encouraging! Till next chapter! ;)**_


	7. Chapter 7

**_This is a longer one... And it only took me two days! Being at home with your car in the shop for many days has it's benefits I guess... Anyway, hope you guys like this one. It's time for some fish and chips, and then a little tabloid surprise! Enjoy! ;)_**

* * *

Molly climbed into the cab and Sherlock followed, then he gave the driver the address. They were then silent for a few minutes as the cab drove. Then Sherlock spoke.

"I never did quite work out why you wouldn't go to dinner with me that day you assisted me solving crimes."

Molly whirled to look at him. This evening was becoming like something from an alternate universe.

"Well, um, I don't think I ever actually said I wouldn't."

"No. You didn't need to though. Clearly you were uncomfortable with the idea."

Molly examined her hands in her lap then. True, she had been. The events of those months ago played back in her mind and it was almost funny as she remembered it. He'd invited her to dinner, she'd neither accepted nor rejected, and yet the offer was dropped and never mentioned again. They parted ways and the night was over, just like that. But typical Sherlock, he didn't even need an answer to come out of her mouth for him to know what the answer was.

"Well, you seem to think you know why I didn't accept. So why are you asking me about it?"

He took a slow breath and looked back out the window as he spoke. "What doesn't make sense is that you arrived at Baker Street that day, and were quite prepared to have dinner with me. You assumed that was the reason I'd wanted to see you." and then he looked back at her.

Molly looked back at him nervously. He was right. She had assumed as much, and then opened her big mouth about it!

"So why," he continued, "were you suddenly unwilling to have dinner with me only hours later? And don't say your engagement. You were as engaged that afternoon as you were that evening." he said with a wave of his gloved hand, already dismissing the excuse as invalid.

And he was right, once again. It wasn't Tom. It was her. She'd arrived at Baker Street that day feeling rather confident in herself. She was a happily engaged woman who had a friend that had recently come back from the dead. And he was just a friend, always had been. She was simply happy to see him alive and well. So she would have been happy to accept a friendly 'I'm back home' dinner invitation that day when she'd first arrived. But all that rational thought had gone right out the window by the time they'd left the last client's flat and were standing in the stair well. And suddenly she was afraid to go eat dinner with Sherlock Holmes. It felt like cheating. Because her heart already was.

Of course none of this could be explained in detail to _Sherlock..._

"Well, I just... I had more time to think about it by then. And I didn't think that it would have been wise. Because I didn't want Tom to get the wrong idea. It was just something I hadn't had time to think of earlier in the day. That's all." she lied.

He examined her face, and she was afraid he was carefully deducing her, and realizing she was lying through her teeth. It was almost the same look he gave her when they stood there at the bottom of the stairs that day. But whether he realized she was lying or not, he simply nodded and turned back to look out the window.

A while later, they sat at a small table near the back of the little fish shop. The owner did know and love Sherlock, for "helping him put up shelves" as he had put it. So he'd placed them a bit out of the way. And he did indeed give extra portions, just as Sherlock had said. Molly continued munching slowly on the many chips that were still left on her plate and listened to Sherlock talk practically nonstop about some of his more interesting experiences while dismantling Moriarty's network. It was interesting, though that didn't matter terribly.

Molly was enjoying this. And in his own way, Sherlock seemed to be enjoying it as well. She imagined that it wouldn't have been so enjoyable if it had been all those months ago. She was glad that it was now, and not then. Back then she would have been feeling guilty. Now, there was no guilt as she smiled and blushed slightly once in a while as he talked. Or when she laughed a little at his description of some of the identities he had to take on in order to remain undercover. There was nothing hanging over her head.

He stopped suddenly though, and his eyes shifted back and forth in thought. "John has informed me that I shouldn't talk _at _people incessantly. Perhaps I've been doing that this evening."

"Oh, no no!" Molly immediately responded. "I liked listening, really. I mean, he's right. It's not always nice to talk at people... But I didn't mind tonight. It's ok... Do you miss it? Having John to talk to all the time I mean."

Sherlock shrugged. "Sometimes I still do. I forget he's gone. I find myself still talking to him. Probably even more than the skull." and he smiled.

"It's been a long time... that you've been alone I mean." she said cautiously.

He stared back at her evenly, not reacting much. But she thought she could see his gaze falter a little, and turn a little somber.

"It's been close to three years now that you haven't had a flat mate. More specifically your best friend as your flat mate." Molly added gently, trying to feel him out. Was this why he'd suddenly asked her to dinner again? The last time was when John was still angry with him.

"Well, I still have John, after all. It's not exactly the same of course, but he's still here. Besides... I do have many friends now." and he gave her a half smile.

Molly smiled back as she pushed her hair off her face and behind her ear. She couldn't hold his stare for too long though, and started glancing around the restaurant. She couldn't help but notice a couple of tables full of people sneaking looks at them. Molly looked back at Sherlock and nodded her head in the direction of the onlookers.

Sherlock glanced over inconspicuously and he rolled his eyes as he looked back at Molly and shook his head. "We can't possibly be the most fascinating thing in London. These people should feel sorry for themselves."

Just then, the owner came over and slapped Sherlock on the back merrily.

"How was everything? Hope you got to eat in peace Mr. Holmes! You're a popular man." and he smiled at Molly too.

"Thank you, yes, everything was fine... I'm not sure exactly what everyone is watching for though. They're going to end up spectacularly bored!"

"I'm sure they're hoping for a 'scarf toss pub kiss' repeat." the man said lifting his eyebrows suggestively.

Sherlock frowned at Molly, then at the owner again. "I'm sorry, hoping for a repeat of _what_?"

"Oh, you know, _the _kiss!" he answered, then he said a hurried goodbye and rushed off to go scold someone in the kitchen.

Molly and Sherlock looked at each other with expressions of confusion.

"Are people really... Is that what they're... calling it?" Molly began hesitantly.

Sherlock calmly took out his phone and began typing. "I don't know. But I know someone who will."

HAS THE GENERAL PUBLIC NAMED THE KISS THAT I GAVE MOLLY? -SH

Sherlock set his mobile down on the table as he then also paid the bill. Molly protested, but he insisted that it was his idea to eat here, and it was no trouble at all. By the time the bill had been paid, Sherlock's phone alerted him to a message.

OF COURSE IT HAS A NAME. I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVEN'T SHARED THAT LITTLE GEM WITH YOU YET... IT'S THE "SCARF TOSS PUB KISS." WOULD YOU LIKE A TEE SHIRT MADE? ;) -MW

Sherlock read the message, sighed, then handed the phone to Molly. Her eyes widened a bit as she read, and her blush was spreading as she handed the phone back.

"I'm not sure what to say to that. I've never had a kiss of mine be important enough to be _named _before. Not that I can take much credit, I suppose. I think the drama of it was really all your doing."

"Yes well, I was attempting to... Never mind. I really shouldn't have been drinking. I think that's the vital point." then he cleared his throat in some embarrassment, picked his coat up, and stood from his seat.

They left the small restaurant and walked out to the street to catch a cab.

"I'm heading back to Bart's. So, I'll just take my own cab. You're not far from Baker Street."

"Right, of course." he nodded, and raised his arm for a cab. One came to a stop a couple moments later. "Here, you take this one."

"Thanks Sherlock. Oh and, thanks for dinner. It was... nice. I'm glad I finally got to eat here." she smiled at him as she stood in the open door of the cab. She suddenly felt nervous, that familiar nervous feeling that one gets at the end of a first date. Which was silly. Because this wasn't a date. Of course it wasn't a date.

"You're welcome." then he smiled back and gave a small nod. "Good evening Molly."

"Yes, good evening." she said softly, then quickly got in the cab before the awkward feeling got worse. She knew that if it went on, she would become much more likely to say or do something she'd later regret. Best to make a rapid exit, just in case.

She laid her head back on the seat of the cab and took a few deep breaths as it began driving. _He's feeling guilty. He feels guilty that he's caused so much media attention for me to deal with, and he's trying to make up for it. That's all this is. The last time he asked you to dinner there was a good reason for that too. He was just saying thank you. Do not, I repeat, do not read into this Molly Hooper! _she thought to herself.

She reached into the take away container that held the remainder of her chips and she shoved another into her mouth. It was a pitifully unsuccessful distraction. She wished in that moment that she could be more like Sherlock. She wished she could shut down, and shut herself off from everything remotely emotional. She realized of course that he did occasionally have emotional and vulnerable moments. But he was clearly able to control them almost completely. If he didn't want emotions to dictate how he felt and what he did, then he simply didn't let them. Most of the time she felt sorry for him and believed that he was deprived of a lot of the joy in life because of his living like that. But then there were moments, like this one, where she firmly believed that he was the one who enjoyed the greater contentment in life.

And even though she wasn't the woman she used to be, the silly stuttering woman who barely even got called the correct name by the detective, there was no denying that she still wished she had more. And now it was all the harder to be denied what she truly still wanted.

Because the world around her now believed a lie, and it was a constant reminder to her that it would never become a truth.

* * *

Sherlock worked some moderately interesting cases for the next couple of days. John accompanied him on a few. Mary's visits to the OB were becoming more frequent now, and he couldn't be counted on as much as before.

Sherlock actually wished there would be some sort of news of Moriarty. It hadn't truly left his mind for a moment that the man could very well be out there somewhere, and possibly taking an interest in his life. He knew how Moriarty worked though, and that when he wanted to be in any sort of contact with Sherlock, he would be. And till then, he would probably be hiding in the shadows, as was more typical for him. He'd be hiding, and observing, and perhaps pulling some strings.

But he certainly didn't want to attract any more unusual attention to Molly. Which was why he was especially disturbed when he encountered a tabloid article as he walked along a street with John. Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks and grabbed the article from the rack.

"What? What is it?" John asked, seeing the shock on Sherlock's face.

"My God... look at this." and he shoved the paper into John's hand as he tossed some money at the owner of the stand.

John tried to read a bit as he also hurried to catch up with the detective who continued with quick strides down the street.

"Sherlock, what is this?" John called after him. "This says 'Detective Needed Molly Hooper,' and it looks like it's about when you faked your death."

"Yes, that's exactly what it is. But it's detailed. Too detailed. There's exact wording in there!" he said and poked at the page in John's hand. Then he looked around for a cab.

John began reading a portion of what was written. "It says, 'In his darkest hour, the famous detective turned to the woman that had always counted and he'd always trusted. He trusted her with his life. She never even considered refusing. Molly Hooper asked him nothing, but a simply question. What do you need? And Sherlock Holmes answer was a simple one as well... _You_. And need her, he did. Perhaps Sherlock Holmes would not be alive today if it hadn't been for the devotion of Doctor Molly Hooper."

John stopped reading and looked back up as a cab stopped to let them in. "This is exact wording?" he questioned as he climbed in after Sherlock.

"Yes, didn't I just say that it was?" he answered in mild frustration and began typing something on his mobile.

John looked back at the article, then at Sherlock, then back at the article. "So, I'm sorry, but what... What did you mean by _you_?"

"You are missing the point of my concern John! The point is that we were alone. That was a private conversation in the lab of Bart's. How did she get that information? Where did she get it from?"

"Where did _who _get it from?"

Sherlock gave John a look, and answered in a somber tone. "Look at who's responsible for that article."

John sighed and shook his head as his eyes reached the bottom of the page. "Kitty Riley."

"Of course, now the information is out there. It details everything, save my actual methods for survival. Not that it matters, because Molly's vital involvement is clearly the main focus! This is exactly what I didn't want to become public!"

"Where are we going anyway?"

"To Molly's of course. Thankfully she's not working today. I'm in no mood to navigate around tabloid reporters." he grumbled.

"You know she wouldn't have done this, don't you Sherlock?" John asked cautiously.

"Of course Molly didn't do it! So you can save your lectures about me accusing her of anything. I wasn't planning on it... But I do need to know where this could have come from. And she needs to know that things have taken a bit of a turn."

They arrived at Molly's flat not long after, and hurried up the stairs. Sherlock knocked firmly on the door and they heard Molly's soft footsteps hurrying to answer. There was a moment's pause as she likely looked through the peep hole, then they heard her undo the two locks and open the door.

"Sherlock... Hi." her expression told him that he would not be the first to share this news with her.

"It seems you know why I'm here." he said simply as he entered her little flat.

"I do." she said, sounding a little upset. "Hi John." she added with a tight smile, and gestured to her little couch.

John and Sherlock sat down and Molly sat in a well worn arm chair with a fair amount of damage from the claws of her cat. Sherlock then laid the article down on the table in front of the couch.

"I know you didn't do this." "This is all my fault."

... Both Sherlock and Molly spoke at the same time. John's eyes darted back and forth between them, and Sherlock's head tilted as he eyed Molly questioningly. Then she spoke again.

"I was going to call you, when I saw... Of course you're right, I didn't do this directly. I never spoke to any reporters about anything, especially not that. But it's... It's still my fault. Because there was one person that I told." she hesitated and looked at her hands in her lap for a second before continuing. "I told Tom."

Molly saw something cloud over in Sherlock's eyes. It almost looked like hurt. And it made her feel a hundred times worse than she had before.

"I'm so, so sorry." she said earnestly, seeking forgiveness in those eyes.

Sherlock took a moment to respond, but then he opened his mouth. He spoke slowly. "And, you told absolutely nobody else?"

"Absolutely nobody. And I never told Tom anything at all until you were back. When you were still away, all he thought was that I knew you when you were alive. I'd never have risked giving you away!"

John watched the two of them, almost like he was watching a ticking bomb. There was something lurking under the surface of this conversation...

Sherlock got up from where he sat and carefully buttoned his suit jacket again before he began to slowly pace around the small sitting room of her flat. Molly's cat Toby then jumped up to occupy the space that was now open next to John on the couch. Finally Sherlock broke the silence.

"It's done now. We can't change what's already been printed... But I do want to know if Tom really did this."

Molly looked up at him from where she sat. "I- I think he did. It makes sense. He was angry the last time I talked to him. Angry at you. And I think it would be easy for a pushy reporter to sway him into talking. I've tried texting and calling him and he's not answering. That makes me think he did it too. Maybe he feels guilty."

"He should feel guilty." Sherlock spat out immediately. "Doesn't he realize that he could be putting you in danger?"

"I'm sure he doesn't." John offered.

"Probably because he didn't bother to think for two seconds about any sort of consequences! As I said before Molly, not exactly you intellectual equal!"

"I'm sorry, I wish I'd never told him." she sighed.

Sherlock stopped pacing for a moment and looked down at her again. "Why _did_ you tell him?" and the tone of the question was somewhat frustrated and a little desperate.

John, again, almost felt like he shouldn't be there watching this play out. And he wondered if Sherlock (the king of reminding others "you're missing the point") realized that there wasn't actually much point in getting an answer to that question. Why Molly had told Tom, wouldn't change the fact that he knew. And it wouldn't change the fact that he'd shared the information with Kitty Riley.

Molly chewed her lip and hesitated for a second. "I just, I felt like I should. Like I owed it to him."

"Why?" Sherlock questioned, his face scrunching up in what looked like disgust.

"Sherlock!" John hissed. "She was marrying the man, you may remember."

But Molly went on to give an explanation.

"I felt like I needed to be honest with him. I had lied to him, after all. And when you came back... Well, I couldn't lie any more. I'm not sure I'm all that good at acting anyway. I don't know if I could have pulled off making him believe that it was as much a shock to me that you were alive as it was to everyone else. He wanted to know too. He said he wanted to know everything. I said I'd tell him everything I could. And I did. All I held back was... how you actually did it. I told him that was something I had no right to reveal." she said with a sheepish glance at John.

Sherlock listened with lips pressed together, trying to process it all. He took a few more steps around, before looking back at her once again. "You told him... exact words?" he questioned, though he really knew the answer already.

"I needed to be completely honest. I didn't want to hold any of that back. Because if I did, it would have felt like, like..." and she hesitated, as her cheeks flushed a bit.

"Like what?!"

"Like I was hiding something about _us_!" she finally exclaimed, holding his gaze. "If I held back, I would have felt like I was, trying to keep something... personal from him."

Sherlock stood frozen, looking back at her. He then put on a more controlled expression and straightened up as he went to go stand by the window. "It seems he now thinks that's exactly what you were doing anyway. I'm not sure your plan worked."

"I'm sorry." she said again, more softly.

Sherlock turned from to look at her from where he stood. "I know... It's not as if you need to apologize to me though. This is more a matter of your own safety, after all."

But John was sitting there thinking that somehow this had turned into more than a concern for safety. He had very little doubt in his mind that it was upsetting to his typically unemotional friend, that such a private and poignant conversation had been allowed to go beyond himself and Molly. It almost seemed like Sherlock felt a little betrayed. And it was an unusual look for him.

"Would you maybe like some tea while you're here?" Molly ventured to ask, wanting to do something to calm the situation.

"I think we'd better get going actually." Sherlock answered quickly for them both and picked up his coat from the arm of the couch where Toby was inching closer and closer. Then he listed off instructions. "As usual Molly, be watchful. Perhaps more so now. If something scares you, don't ignore it. Just tell me."

Molly got up and walked over to the door as Sherlock opened it and John followed him. After they'd gone through the door, Sherlock turned to Molly again who still stood there.

"Perhaps you should offer Tom the same courtesy that you did to me." he said, as he looped his scarf around his neck.

"What's that?" she asked nervously.

"Give him fair warning. If he ever returns your messages, feel free to inform him that I'm not terribly pleased with this situation. And unlike my receiving the news of his dislike for me, this news _should _concern him." and then Sherlock gave her a pointed look that reminded her, albeit subtly, that his concern was still primarily rooted in her safety.

Molly nodded and gave him a small smile.

Then he turned, heading down the stairs, and John followed after giving Molly a quick wave. Sherlock exited the building and began walking quickly down the street with John struggling a bit to keep up.

"Shorter legs Sherlock! Try not to keep deleting it from your mind palace! What's the rush anyway?"

"No rush, I just wanted to walk." and took out his phone to send a message as he moved briskly.

YOU'RE STILL KEEPING A CLOSE EYE ON DOCTOR HOOPER, CORRECT? -SH

"You wouldn't be walking off frustration would you?" John asked with a smirk.

"I'm not sure what sort of frustration you're referring to John." he said evenly as he checked the reply to his text.

YOU KNOW I AM... I'M ASSUMING THE LATEST TABLOID STORY WAS A BIT EXAGGERATED. THOUGH MORIARTY MAY NOT SEE IT THAT WAY, BROTHER DEAR. -MH

No need to reply to that, Sherlock decided.

"Well I'm not referring to the frustration about the news article, that's for sure." John clarified with a short laugh.

"What other possible frustration would there be?" Sherlock asked with a huff as he put his phone away and continued staring ahead while marching along.

"I was meaning the fact that Molly shared all those private details with Tom."

"John, you said yourself she was engaged to the man. It's understandable that there wouldn't have been any secrets. People in that level of relationship feel the need to _share _things... Well, unless they're an ex assassin with a false identity of course." and he gave John a quick grin.

"You're hilarious... Well, forgive me, but you didn't seem to have such a good hold on that logic back at her flat."

Sherlock said nothing, and kept on walking.

"So it did bother you?" John pushed a bit more.

"I thought I just explained that there was nothing to be bothered by." he answered quickly.

John chose to let it drop this time and just kept walking alongside his friend. But a couple minutes later, he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer.

"So what did you mean when you told Molly... _You_?_"_

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "That I needed her to help me fake my death!"

"You could have just said that couldn't you?" John offered with a small smile.

"Obviously I made that clear soon after! My original response simply conveyed everything I needed from her all summed up in that one little word. It was a..." he narrowed his eyes, realizing even to himself that this was about to be a silly sounding explanation. "time saver."

John chuckled at that excuse. "Ah, Right... And _how _exactly did you say it? Can you show me how you said it to her? And how you looked when you said it?" then John halted in his tracks, turning to look at Sherlock expectantly as he had stopped also.

Sherlock frowned in disdain. "Absolutely not! I'm not showing you how I said that to Molly." then he turned and continued walking again, turning his collar up as he went.

John smiled to himself as he started following after, and he muttered to himself, "And _that... _answered my question."

* * *

_**Hope you guys all liked that one! I sort of wrestled with myself about Molly having shared those conversation details with Tom. But I tried to put myself in her place. And I figured that while she was trying to convince herself that Tom was right for her, she'd probably be trying to do whatever she could to make things work. And I think that could have included spilling her guts about Sherlock. It made some sense to me... and besides, it helped to reveal some FEELS of Sherlock's!**_

_**So I wanted to mention that I am trying to continue with the social media fluff and humor, but it can be challenging to come up with endless clever internet tid bits about the two of them. As one lovely reviewer pointed out after last chapter, this is fun because it's like we as Sherlolly shippers get to poke fun at ourselves and our obsession! So... I'd like to open it up to you readers if you're interested. If you have any suggestions for gif's, meme wording, fan videos, fan fiction, fan art, etc. please Personal Message me! I may just end up working it in if it seems to fit. :)**_

_**Special shout out to WebStar for mentioning the idea to include Kitty Riley. (I'm not done with Kitty yet btw) Totally hadn't thought of her till WebStar mentioned it though! Brilliant idea for this story, you're awesome! **_

_**Ok, I'm done talking for real now... Bye bye! ;)**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Hello! Thanks for all the fun ideas guys. And I did use one of them in this chapter. Good stuff!... Just a minor side note, I'm trying to be different in this story. So I'm not sticking to the family scenario that I had for Molly in my other stories. I'm being purposefully inconsistent haha! I think it's better that way because this is just totally different from other plots I've come up with. Also, I hope that everyone deems Sherlock still in character for this whole chapter... That's all I'll say for now actually. See you at the bottom of the page! ;)**_

* * *

"Oh God, I hate this one! How did they even get these?" Molly groaned.

Molly sat next to Mary on the couch of the Watson's flat a few days after Kitty Riley's article had been published. There were some more tabloid papers in front of the two of them, and Molly was less than pleased with the scrutiny.

"I'm sorry Molly, but nobody looks bad to me right now. Not when I have to look in the mirror at my massive self every day. I actually think you look adorable!" Mary insisted, peering over and examining the pictures of Molly from years ago.

"Why do they care anyway? Why did they have to dig up uni pictures and even pictures of my dad?" and her voice dropped a little in sadness.

"The title of the article is 'Just Who is Doctor Molly Hooper?' so I think people just want to know more about the woman Sherlock snogged in a pub. They can't get enough now!... So was it just you and your dad?" Mary asked gently.

"Yes. My mother died when I was small. I barely remember her. For most of my memories, it was me and my dad. He died about six years ago now... He wouldn't have liked all this too much." she said sadly, touching the pages of the article.

"None of this is your fault Molly." and Mary gestured to the papers.

Molly looked at her and started to speak after a second of hesitating. "Well, I certainly could have stopped it if I'd wanted to." she said with a rueful smile.

Mary smiled slowly back at her. "Yes... _If _you'd wanted to." she said softly.

The two women looked at each other for a moment. But Molly didn't have time to make any reply.

"Alright, show me what you have here." Sherlock said as he took a seat on the couch beside Mary.

"It's really not much. Just a couple things stood out to me based on what you gave me to look for. Not a whole lot to go on." Mary began navigating on her laptop as Molly tossed some of the papers onto the table with obvious irritation.

Sherlock looked at her with a questioning frown.

"What?" she responded to his look. "Doesn't it bother you that they found old pictures of us? Oh well, I suppose it wouldn't bother you. Why would it? You look practically the same!"

"I look younger!" Sherlock offered.

"Yes, well that's not exactly humiliating. I have bad fringe and glasses! The difference is that I look worse, not younger."

Sherlock leaned over to examine the pictures again that he had seen before. "Mm, yes that's not your best look."

Molly felt her cheeks heat up as he clearly picked the picture apart with his eyes. Not only did everyone else get to see this, but Sherlock himself was now acknowledging she didn't look good...

"Yes, the fringe and glasses do nothing positive. They minimize your best feature." he said matter-of-factly.

Molly frowned at him, suddenly taken aback. "My what?"

Neither of them noticed how Mary began smiling to herself as she continued looking at the screen of her laptop.

Sherlock looked at her straight faced, seeming confused by her shock. "Your eyes, of course. It's best not to have the shadow of the fringe or the distraction of the glasses. Makes your eyes less noticeable."

"M-my eyes?" she questioned, then feeling her cheeks flush for a completely different reason.

"Yes, your eyes." he repeated. "What? Do you not consider them your best feature?"

"Um, well, no. I mean, I don't know, maybe they are. I just didn't think, that you would consider... Uh, never mind! Actually I just mean, thanks." and she smiled, reminding herself not to make such a big thing out of nothing. _Just say thanks, and move swiftly along!_

Thankfully Mary then got where she needed to be. "Ok, so in the lookout for apples, I did find a couple things. There's a short fiction here where Molly makes you lunch on a case and there's an apple included."

"Not that he would eat lunch if he's on a case." Molly commented as an aside. And she missed the brief pleased look that Sherlock gave her.

"Yes, well there's nothing unusual about an apple being included in a lunch. What else is there?" he questioned.

"There's also this sketch." Mary said and clicked on the saved file.

It was actually beautifully done. It seemed like a pencil sketch. It was an artist's depiction of Sherlock kissing Molly in the pub. There was little else in the picture. The background was mostly made to fade out and be vague. But the bar was visible in the back. And despite the fact that it was a pencil sketch and was without color, there was a red apple sitting on the bar. It was small, but it did stand out.

Sherlock leaned into the screen and examined the sketch. "Enlarge it and focus on the apple."

Mary did, and Sherlock continued to stare at it. Finally he pulled his face back, looking a bit deflated. "Nothing on it. Just a red apple. Still though, rather out of place considering the setting. Why would an apple on the bar be the only other thing discernible in the sketch besides myself and Molly?"

"That does seem strange." Molly agreed. Especially after earlier hearing the reason that Sherlock felt an apple could be a red flag online.

"Follow that person, whoever made it." Sherlock instructed Mary.

"Already done." Mary smiled.

"Anything else? Anything perhaps related to my faked suicide?"

"Well there's lots of that. I'm not sure you can really consider that a red flag in itself anymore. Once Molly's involvement became more public because of Kitty Riley's article, there's been plenty of people making things related to that event. There's heaps of fan art and fiction. You asking her for help, her disguising a fake corpse, you hiding out at her flat, you _thanking her _for her help." and Mary shot them both a wide eyed look.

"Thank you Mary, I think we get the idea." Sherlock sighed. And Mary was almost sure she saw Sherlock's face turn a little pink.

"Alright, well I'll just keep looking out for anything unusual though. Apples, IOU, fairy tales, and anything including Molly being harmed or in danger. Anything else?"

"That should do it for now." Sherlock said, leaning back against the couch.

"Molly, have you seen some of the memes?" Mary then asked, happily moving right on to a lighter topic.

"I've tried not to look, to be honest. I'm a bit afraid of what I might see."

"There's some adorable stuff though! Like, 'Keep Calm and Snog Sherlock.' There's one with a little deer stalker cap and a lab coat on it. I'm thinking of getting myself a tea mug! Perhaps a onesie for the baby!" Mary said with a giggle, and she winked at Molly when Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Sherlock got up and went to the adjoining kitchen to grab a bottle of water. More for the purpose of excusing himself than for actual thirst.

Mary then leaned over to show Molly a little animated gif with the words 'scarf toss pub kiss' in the center, and a little blue scarf flying past in the background. Molly couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Ok, I suppose I'd like you to send that to me." Molly admitted.

John finally came back from picking up the food. "I hope you're all done with the Sherlolly safety check stuff. I'd really like to be able to keep my dinner down tonight." he said as he set the bag down in the kitchen.

"We're done with the safety, and we've apparently moved on to the trivial." Sherlock groaned to his friend.

"Oh look at that! Some of these are beautiful. Really talented artists. Sherlock, look at this!" and Molly got up to meet him halfway and show him Mary's phone. "I mean, it looks just like you. It's almost like a photograph."

Sherlock examined the drawing of himself and Molly. He was cradling her head and looking down at her, and it seemed that this was the moment before the kiss. He had to admit, it was impressive. The detail was almost flawless. He was grumbling inwardly that people should use their talents for something more worthy, but another observation entirely was what actually came out of his mouth.

"They didn't get everything completely correct though. That's not where you hands were."

"Oh..." Molly said, peering at the picture again. In the drawing, her hands were wrapped around Sherlock's wrists as he held her face.

"You weren't holding my wrists, you grabbed the collar of my coat. Not a difficult detail to remember... It was rather forceful as I recall." and he couldn't help giving her a small teasing smile.

"Not _that _forceful Sherlock." and countered weakly, and tried not to blush.

"Forceful enough." and he took a few steps back into the kitchen. "That is, until you moved your hands onto my neck."

No stopping the blush now, Molly realized. And the look he gave her after he said it, that sideways smile and glance, it was almost... If he was any other man in the world, after a comment like that, she would have sworn that look was flirty.

"We don't really need to continue detailing exactly what Molly did with her hands when you kissed her, do we?" John then asked, with a pained expression. "Because I was serious, I do really want to keep my dinner down."

"Don't listen to him." Mary said as she came over to the kitchen with some difficulty. "He's just jealous because I'm so big I can barely even reach to put my arms around his neck when I stand in front of him!" and she patted the accused belly.

The four of them ate dinner and it wasn't long after that Molly announced that she would be needing to head home. It was getting late, and she had to work in the morning. Not surprisingly, Sherlock offered to leave as well. He said he may as well take the same cab. Sherlock and Molly left soon after, and the Watsons made their way into the kitchen to clean up a bit.

"Alright, see this is why I wanted to invite her tonight as well! Please John, please tell me you are seeing the same thing that I'm seeing with the two of them! I do not want to have to defend myself forever. Honestly, I can't believe you're his best friend and it's taken you even this long to see what's in front of your face! I mean, there was so much sexual tension in this room, I could barely move around properly!" Mary ranted as she threw out take away containers.

"Aren't you confusing sexual tension with your stomach? You can barely move around properly, period."

That earned John a harsh warning look from his wife.

John put his hands up in half defense, half resignation. "Ok ok, I will admit that I see... something. There's something there, yes. But I don't know if Sherlock would ever even recognize it. He's practically a child emotionally. And it's largely by his own choice! Even if he thought he felt something, he'd probably destroy it internally and make sure it never came to anything."

"He's not a robot John. He can feel and he can love just like you and me. You know that! Look at all the sacrifices he's made for you, and even for me. I think the truth is, that man loves in the same way he does many other things. Much more brilliantly than most other people around him. It just doesn't happen very often."

"I suppose, I just... I don't know. I don't know if he'd ever let it happen. There's a level of selflessness and sacrifice that is particular to a romantic relationship. I'm not sure if he'd ever be willing to make that work. And if he does care about her, it's also certainly possible that he believes she'd be better off without him."

Mary shook her head. "Now that, I know is not true. Molly Hooper will never be better off without Sherlock Holmes. It's pretty much impossible. It doesn't even matter if her life would actually be easier without him. She still wouldn't be better off. Because she loves him. She loves him John."

John sighed. "Yeah I know. I know... I just wish I could believe he really knows what to do about it."

* * *

Molly sat there in the cab, a couple feet away from Sherlock, wondering if this was the best time. But she figured there wouldn't be a better one. Why not ask now? She knew enough at least to be sure he wouldn't be upset at her or refuse her an answer.

"Sherlock?"

"Mm?" he hummed, turning his gaze from the window to her.

"I just wanted to know something. Doesn't change anything, I realize. It's just more like curiosity-"

"Out with it Molly." he prodded, but not unkindly.

"Why exactly did you kiss me?" she blurted, and then pressed her lips together, having finally gotten the words out.

Sherlock had wondered if she was ever going to actually ask that question. He'd assumed she had wanted to know. He wasn't sure if he wanted to answer. For the most part, he firmly believed what he had expressed to Lestrade. Molly Hooper was in no way confused about the state of their relationship. But there was the small nagging bit of doubt in his mind. He had, after all, never had the 'I consider myself married to my work' talk with her.

"I confess," he began slowly, "that I was, in the moment, mostly motivated by a remark that Sally had made upon my exit."

"Yes, I thought you heard that." Molly said a little sadly.

"But, what you don't know is that I had already been found lacking in the area of... passion before your arrival. Apparently, one of Anderson's many ridiculous theories about my survival three years ago involved my thanking you in the form of a rather dramatic kiss."

Molly's eyes widened. "Anderson? Why would that be part of his theory?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Apparently he was becoming exceedingly bored. Understandable. What else did he have to occupy his time? Anyway, the reaction of the entire table was unanimous, in that they believed that I would never have been able to pull of such a display of affection."

"And you didn't like that?" Molly questioned, a smile creeping onto her lips. "I thought you didn't care what people think of you."

"I don't." he answered instantly, but tilted his head in thought as he answered again. "But I'd been drinking, and I took the comments a bit more personally than I'd normally allow myself to. And for some reason I very badly wanted to prove them all wrong."

"Well I'd say you did." Molly offered with a small smile.

Sherlock looked at her more seriously though. "I shouldn't have done it."

Molly's smile fell away and she nodded slowly. "Oh... right. Well, I understand. Caused quite a bit of trouble hasn't it? And besides I know you're not- that you'd never really want to..." and her words fell away.

"I mean that it was unfair of me to use you like that, in the moment. It was childish. I should have just walked away. I don't know why I cared whether they thought I could do something like that or not. I shouldn't have cared. And I should have considered how it could... make you feel." he said pointedly.

Her eye met his, and there was an understanding that passed through them. He definitely knew what damage could have done by kissing her. And she saw that it wasn't his intent to confuse her. Molly couldn't decide if she was relieved or not. On the one hand, he had expressed his genuine concern for her feelings. He didn't want to hurt her. But on the other hand, he'd as much as admitted that he didn't want her to get the wrong impression. This was the 'don't take that kiss the wrong way' talk. But she couldn't say she hadn't seen it coming.

"I'm ok Sherlock." she said softly. "I am."

Sherlock continued examining her face in the half light of the cab's back seat. He didn't say anything, and waited for her to continue talking, because he could see that she wanted to.

"You're my friend. And we've been through a lot together haven't we? There's autopsies, experiments, solving crimes, faking your suicide, hiding out at my flat, scattered insults and deductions, lots of dead body parts." and she added a smile. Then she shrugged. "So, I dunno, I guess I figure... why not add a magnificent kiss to the list as well?"

Sherlock watched her intensely as she simultaneously acknowledged her feelings and then humbly minimized their importance all in the space of one breath. And she did it in the most gracious, and endearing way he could imagine. She was making the whole situation easier and more comfortable, in the brave way that was so typical of her. She wasn't asking anything of him or hoping for anything... and yet ironically, in that moment, Sherlock had never felt more inclined to _give_... Though all he could manage were words.

"Yes." he echoed his agreement in a low rumble. "Why not?"

Molly held his stare for another moment, because it was so beautiful. But then she offered another smile, and lightened the conversation just a bit.

"So... Anderson. He really thought you would have kissed me like that?" she asked with a laugh.

"After crashing through a window, no less."

"What?! That's insane!" and she laughed even harder.

"Well, he assumed that's how grateful I was. Perhaps I don't know the best way to say thank you." he said sarcastically. "Maybe you would have preferred a dramatic kiss before my departure, instead of a day of crime solving upon my arrival home."

Molly pursed her lips, playing along with the joke. "You're right. If you could have flown through a window and snogged me silly, broken glass and all, I wouldn't have cared if you'd never spoken to me again. All the thanks I would have ever needed!"

Sherlock laughed at that. "Well, apparently there wouldn't have been broken glass. Anderson imagined that I would have shaken any off my coat and then ruffled my hair before getting to you."

"Ruffled your hair?" she asked, stifling a grin.

"Yes, why?"

Molly shrugged and was glad he couldn't see how pink her cheeks were in the dark. "Oh it's just... Anderson might be smarter than you think." she said shyly.

"Please don't tell me that's in the same category as pulling my scarf off." he complained playfully.

Molly could only look at him sheepishly. Sherlock looked back at her with mock disapproval which made her laugh.

Just then they pulled up to Molly's flat. Molly paid for her share, then turned back to the detective.

"Well, thanks for sharing the cab. I'm glad we're... ok. Especially after the article a few days ago." Molly added with some embarrassment.

"No problem." Sherlock answered simply. He was feeling rather forgiving considering the fact that she had set such a good example. And of course he kept reminding himself that he had absolutely no valid reason to expect that such a past conversation would remain private between the two of them. He had no rights to any moments they shared together. They didn't have that sort of connection, never had. And that meant that any man she shared her life with, would always come first in one way or another... That's how it should be. _She deserves is._

"Tom sent me a text yesterday, finally."

"Oh?"

"He said I have no right to be angry at him. I chose to snog a celebrity in public, and so I gave up my rights to privacy. And that If I wanted a nice quiet life, perhaps I should have married him. And that was it." she said solemnly as she opened the cab door.

Sherlock clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. "Did you express my... displeasure?" he asked in as controlled a voice as he could manage.

"I did. He said... good." and Molly grimaced.

Sherlock shook his head. "I do hope you don't harbor any sort of soft feelings for the man and would feel badly if I did something like incapacitate him." he said through gritted teeth.

"You have my blessing actually. I'm well aware now that he was never worthy of the things that I shared with him." Molly smiled, and her eyes shone in the bit of street light that now came through the open door of the cab.

_Definitely her best feature..._

"Good night Sherlock."

"Yes... Goodnight Molly." he said softly, more softly than he'd meant to actually.

She got out and Sherlock instructed the cabbie to wait there till she got inside. Once she had, he gave his address and they began moving. Sherlock rested his fingers lightly on his lips as he watched the city fly by out the window.

For some reason, all he could think about was the possibility that Moriarty would now see Molly Hooper as easy leverage. And he was fiercely aware that there was nothing else he wanted to do at that moment but to ensure that her life was never endangered, or even negatively altered. He thought about being faced with the same sort of difficult decision as he had been years ago, on that windy rooftop of Bart's hospital. And yet, as he sat in the dark and quiet cab, the decision didn't seem all that difficult to him. It just wasn't so very complex as he imagined the idea of Molly's life hanging in the balance. In that moment, he knew one thing for certain. Survival plan or not...

He'd jump.

* * *

_**Ok, so I just always cringe a bit when I get sentimental with Sherlock. I know he has to have his moments, but I feel like it's hard to make it work in character. I'm trying to show the shift happening in his head of course. But it's the warm fuzzy stuff that just never feels 100% in character to me... Oh well! It's fan fiction after all! Moffat and Gatiss will not be breaking down my door any time soon lol! So I hope you guys enjoyed some Sherlock fluff! ;D**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**I'm updating quickly again yay! I did another thing that was suggested by more than on reviewer here. And speaking of reviewers, I actually talk about fan fiction reviewers in this chapter hehehe... You'll have to see what I mean! Enjoy chapter 9! ;)**_

* * *

Molly decided to treat herself to a stop at her favorite cafe a few days later. It was early enough that she was pretty sure it wouldn't make her late for work.

So she was standing there at the counter, having ordered her vanilla latte, and was pretty sure there was no sign that she'd have any trouble to deal with this morning. She'd become much more observant in the past few weeks since the whole wild media story had begun. (And she preferred the term observant, instead of paranoid.) And just then, she heard a vaguely familiar voice from behind her.

"The famous Molly Hooper."

Wait, wasn't that...

Molly turned around to see the glossy styled hair, and the perfectly made up face smiling back at her. Jeanine.

"Oh, hi." Molly replied quickly, then turned back around hoping her latte would be done soon. Probably not the best person to get into a friendly chat with.

"Haven't seen you since John and Mary's wedding. Seems like you've been busy!" Jeanine went on.

"Um, not really. Pretty much the same actually." she answered, without fully turning around.

"Don't be so modest! You've become a little celebrity on the internet. I should have come to you for pointers six months ago. You must be making a killing!"

Molly had finally paid and was originally hoping to exit this conversation as quickly as possible, but Jeanine's last comment unnerved her. So she couldn't just run away now.

"Sorry, what? Making a killing?"

Jeanine raised her eyebrows and laughed a little. "Well, darlin' I do hope you're cashing in on this whole situation." and she took a sip from her own coffee.

Molly took a step out of the way of other customers, now in some disbelief of what had just come out of Jeanine's mouth.

"I- I don't think you understand. I never _wanted _this to become such a big thing."

"Well, I assumed you wouldn't. You don't exactly look like the type that's trying for attention! But now that is has become so big, you should at least be benefiting. You sell a few stories, make them juicy enough, and let me tell you you'll be set up for quite a while."

Molly felt her blood pressure rising steadily. What was the matter with this woman?

"Jeanine, I would never sell stories about Sherlock." she said firmly.

"Why ever no- Oh! I see... Oh you poor thing. He's still got you under his thumb doesn't he? I suppose I can understand. That was some kiss he gave you!" she said, fanning herself for effect. "He is quite the man, I will admit. About as emotionally unavailable as a potato though isn't he?... What was it then? Was it some sort of case?"

"Was what some sort of case?"

"The kiss! Did he do it for a case?"

Molly straightened up and felt almost proud at her answer. "No. It had nothing to do with a case."

"Really? So you're together then?"

"Well, no."

"One night stand?" she asked with a wink.

"No!"

"Didn't think so. Can't exactly see that... And yet you're still stuck on him? Well, you're missing out, let me tell you. Revenge can be pretty sweet. And the cash is even sweeter. Maybe if you could get over the man, you'd be able to find out for yourself."

"I don't want revenge." Molly asserted. "I'd never want to hurt him."

Jeanine laughed merrily. "Hurt him? If you think what I did hurt him, you don't know Sherlock as well as you think you do. That's the point isn't it? That sort of thing doesn't hurt him. Nothing going on in here." and she tapped her chest where her heart would be.

Molly had to remind herself that she couldn't afford anymore public incidents at the moment. And so it probably wouldn't be the best idea to slap this woman silly in the middle of a cafe...

"I think you'll find that you don't know Sherlock as well as you think." she said in a low voice. "And I know that what you did might not have hurt him. But if I did the same thing, it would. And that's because we're friends. And he trusts me. If you think there's nothing going on in that man's heart, then you just didn't look close enough."

Jeanine made an expression of playful surprise. "Well, well. Alright, I guess. I doubt he deserves a friend like you, but oh well." she gathered her bag to her shoulder and smiled at Molly.

"I suppose I should congratulate you for one thing though." Jeanine added as she began to go.

"What's that?"

She smiled slyly. "Sherlock never kissed _me_ like that_._" then she turned and left the cafe, her heels clicking on the tiles as she went.

Molly drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I should just stop going out in public." she whispered to herself.

* * *

"It's obvious John! It was the house keeper. I'm not sure why I waste time explaining things when you never seem to get any faster at keeping up with me!"

John threw his hands up. "Ok, fine. Well no need I suppose. Why don't we go see the client now and just give them the news. That way you can skip explaining it to me, and just tell them instead."

"I can't go now."

"Why not?"

"My brother sent me a text. He said he needed to drop by. Not that I'm eager to have a visit, but I'd certainly never hear the end of it if I was gone when he showed up." Sherlock said as he fell back into his chair.

"Right, so... Do I need to stay?"

Sherlock shrugged. "You can, if you'd like. Then we can go wrap up the case after Myroft leaves. Hopefully won't be long."

It was about ten minutes later when there was a knock at the door. Sherlock slowly pushed himself up from the chair and sauntered over to the door.

"Yes, what do you want M-" Sherlock's eyes doubled. "What are they doing here?"

"We can hear you!" Mrs. Holmes said from behind Mycroft.

"They're visiting today, and they insisted on seeing you. I told you I needed to drop by. You didn't deduce why I hadn't told you the reason? I think you're the one that's slipping." Mycroft said haughtily as he walked past Sherlock to enter the flat.

"Hello darling!" Mrs. Holmes said, approaching her youngest son with warm smile at first. But then her expression changed and she grabbed him by his ear. "Why is it that you keep getting yourself into the tabloid papers?! Are you trying to make your mother ill with shame?"

She let go of Sherlock, leaving him wincing and then she took a seat on the couch.

"Son." his father said with a small nod as he entered the flat as well. It was clear who was the instigator of this little visit, and who was not.

John tried not to laugh at the scene that was beginning to unfold before him. He also wished he could somehow take a video for Mary's benefit later.

"Still waiting for the baby then John?" Mr. Holmes questioned.

"We are, yeah. Shouldn't be long." he said with a smile.

"Be glad you're having a girl, for Mary's sake. A boy would only drive her mad!" Mrs. Holmes said pointedly. Then she added to Sherlock, "Aren't you going to offer us some tea?"

"Staying that long are you?" then after receiving a glare, he amended his answer. "I'll just have Mrs. Hudson get us some tea, shall I?"

Not long after, Mrs. Hudson came upstairs and began getting some tea ready. Mrs. Holmes promptly joined her in the kitchen and they began an animated discussion of all things unacceptable about living with and caring for Sherlock Holmes.

"Do feel free to give him a good smack now and then. He could certainly use it! I wish I could visit more often. Keep him in line, and all that. But I can't manage a visit into the city all the time!"

"Oh I try!" Mrs. Hudson complained, shaking her head. "If I didn't love him like a son myself, I'd have thrown him out long ago!"

"You two enjoying yourself in there?" Sherlock asked with a weary expression.

"And now this latest madness!" Mrs. Holmes went on, then addressing Sherlock again as she came back into the sitting room. "This is the same Dr. Hooper who helped you fake your suicide, is it not?"

"Yes, the one and only." Mycroft answered for him.

"What's this all about then? Is this going to be a habit of yours now? Kissing women in public and then letting your parents read about it in the papers? Am I ever going to have the pleasure of simply meeting a girlfriend of yours in a proper way?"

"I don't have a girlfriend!" Sherlock groaned and took his tea almost violently from Mrs. Hudson. "And as of yet, I never have. So I'm not sure what you think you're missing!"

"Well now son, if you don't have girlfriends, why are you kissing women in pubs? Not exactly how I raised you." his father said indignantly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I kissed _a _woman in _a _pub! Singular!... Do your research." and he added the last part under his breath.

"Well then what's going on? If it's just her, is there anything we should know? Is she someone who's special to you?" his mother pushed.

Sherlock sighed into his tea cup. "She's a loyal friend. That is all."

"You don't kiss all your loyal friends like that!" Mrs. Hudson said with a giggle, and everyone turned to look at her.

"Thank God." John added.

"And sneaking around in a hospital locker room with her, Sherlock! How could you?!" his mother exclaimed, as if she'd just remembered to bring that part up.

Sherlock let his head fall back against his chair with a thud. It was easy not to care what people thought of you when you didn't have to be stuck in a flat with them drinking tea.

Some more tedious conversation went back and forth for a while longer. Sherlock tried to be as uninvolved as possible. After a while his parents must have felt satisfied at the amount of harassment they had given, because they were contented to talk about more trivial matters. Sherlock put up with it all for as long as he possibly could... Almost forty five minutes.

"Well!" he said leaping up from his seat. "It's been lovely having you, but John and I need to wrap up a case."

It took a fair bit of effort, but eventually Sherlock herded the three of them back to the door and ushered them out.

"You'd better tell us if all of this silliness with Dr. Hooper comes to anything! I want no more of your life's announcements coming from the papers!" Mrs. Holmes insisted on her way through the door.

"Yes yes! Fine." he rushed.

"They're staying with you next time." Mycroft hissed in a low voice as he passed his brother.

Finally the guests were gone and Sherlock shut the door. He breathed a loud sigh, then looked at John.

"Alright let's go."

"That was amusing. You have to promise to invite me and Mary if you ever have them meet Molly." John chuckled as he followed in Sherlock's lead and got his coat.

"Why would I have them meet Molly?" he responded suspiciously.

"I dunno, maybe just because she's one of your friends... Or maybe because of another reason." he added cautiously.

"Let's go John, we're wasting time. I'm sure you'd like to get home as quickly as possible." Sherlock said, clearly choosing not to respond.

* * *

The client they had visited wasn't terribly far from John's flat, so they went directly there after they were done. Mary called to them from the kitchen table when they came in.

"Oh, Sherlock I'm glad you're here. I was going to call you. I've been noticing something today, and I thought you should have a look."

He sat down next to her and immediately focused on the screen of her laptop.

"So I've been keeping an eye on the fan fiction about you two. And there's lots on this site called fanstoriez. Obviously the genres of the fictions have quite a large range. There's romance, humor, drama, angst, mystery, and pretty much every combination and everything in between."

"Yes I came across this site before as well. There were links to it from Tumblr. I do hope you're not going to require me to read anything in full." and he peered at Mary with a nervous look in his eyes.

"Well it's not the stories that were strange to me. They are all pretty much what you'd expect. What stood out to me were some of the reviews. I've been going over those too. There's not too many to sort through since this is all pretty new. But as of today, there's been an anonymous review on almost every story I've checked out." Mary clicked on a short story about Molly having bought Sherlock a gift of a new scarf.

She went into the review section, and one of the newest reviews was indeed anonymous, and it simply said _boring._

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the screen. "Is that the only one that says that?"

"No. And that's why it caught my eye. If there were lots of anonymous reviews which all said different things, that wouldn't make me think twice. But I've already counted over twenty that either say _boring, _or _ordinary. _And sometimes both."

Sherlock looked a little disturbed. "Go on." he said calmly.

"Now here's the small exception. There are some stories involving you and Molly, though a bit fewer and further between, that are mysteries and crime solving. Ones that involve some sort of danger. Now I counted eight new ones today. And on all of them, there's an anonymous review that says either _less boring, not distracting enough, _and _Sherlock wants everything to be clever._"

Sherlock nodded slowly. "It's him. It's got to be."

"Anything we should do?" Mary asked.

"We keep making sure Molly is safe, just as we have been. This doesn't exactly pose a specific threat to her, what this did is send a message." he said getting up again from his seat.

"What message is that?" John asked.

"He knows I'm watching. The comments he made are referencing things that he said to me when nobody else was present. To anybody else, those reviews would look like a rude remark, and nothing more. But to me... they're much more."

"Well he's clearly interested. I'd think this gives some pretty clear proof of that too. So I'd say it is still pretty important to keep an eye on Molly's safety." Mary added.

"Yes..." and Sherlock looked like he'd just had a thought. "On that note, there may have been something I've overlooked... Excuse me, I'll talk to you both soon!"

And with a quick wave, he was off again and out the door.

"What was that?" John frowned at Mary.

She shrugged. "Best guess would be that is has something to do with Molly."

* * *

Molly was surprised when she got a text from Sherlock an hour before her shift ended.

COULD YOU STOP AT BAKER STREET AFTER YOUR SHIFT TODAY? THERE'S ONE OR TWO THINGS I NEED TO GO OVER WITH YOU. -SH

SURE, THAT'S FINE. -MH

GOOD. NO REPORTERS HANGING AROUND THE STREET TODAY, SO YOU SHOULD BE FINE. YOU CAN JUST COME IN, I'LL LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN. -SH

When Molly was done working, she got a cab to Baker Street and lugged her bags with her inside. She trudged up the stairs and got to Sherlock's door, which was open as he had said.

"Sherlock!" she called as she entered the flat. She set her bags down on the floor and took her shoes off too, having become sick of them after her eight hour shift. She rounded the corner and saw a bag of what looked like Chinese take away, but it hadn't been disturbed. Still nothing but silence in the flat.

Molly shrugged and figured he was in the loo, or maybe had gone downstairs to Mrs. Hudson briefly or something. She saw that there were no plates put away, so turned the kitchen tap on to clean a couple that were in the sink. She had just finished washing both plates and was drying her hands when it happened.

Suddenly she was grabbed from behind. A hand wrapped itself around her mouth and another arm wrapped around her arms and torso. Molly let out muffled screams and tried to struggle, but to no avail. The grip was too tight and she couldn't move enough to do anything. She was dragged from the kitchen and into the sitting room as she continued to try to scream using the meager air she was able to pull through her nose. The panic was rising, and all she could think of was, _where is Sherlock?_

And then she got her answer.

As suddenly as the attack had begun, it ended. The arms released her and she stumbled forward from her sudden ability to move. And when she turned around... _there _was Sherlock.

Molly still struggled to catch her breath, but it took little effort to scream now.

"Sherlock! What in God's name are you doing?! Are you trying to kill me?!"

He took a few deep breaths himself and was somewhat calmly adjusting his shirt. "No Molly, obviously I'm not trying to kill you. But I could have been someone who was. And as I suspected, you were rather useless at stopping me."

"What?" she said pressing her hand to her heart, hoping to manually stop its racing. "So this was a- a what? Some sort of a test?!"

He tilted his head in thought, then nodded. "Yes, I suppose that would define it rather well. And your results are conclusive. You need some basic self defense skills Molly." and he grinned.

She shook her head slightly as he walked back into the kitchen and began opening the bag of take away.

"You could have just asked me Sherlock!"

"Yes, well this method guaranteed against any dishonesty in your answer. Nothing is more telling than real life!" and he smiled again. Then he held up a container. "Dumpling?"

Molly let out a shaky sigh. "Can I throw them at your head?" she grumbled as she took a heavy seat on one of the kitchen chairs and ran her hands through her hair.

"Well, you certainly could. But in addition to that being a waste of perfectly good take away, you would also be throwing away your means to get your strength back and be ready for a few lessons."

"Lessons?" she questioned peering up at him.

"Yes. In self defense. Do try and keep up Molly." and he shot her another grin as he pushed a couple of take away containers toward her. Then he reached over and grabbed one of the plates she'd washed and put it in front of her.

Molly stared up at him for a moment, then finally put some of the food on her plate and began eating. Sherlock took a container for himself and some chopsticks and leaned on the counter as he began eating as well. It was quiet for a couple minutes.

"You really just attacked me?" she suddenly said. "And now you want to give me some lessons in self defense?"

Sherlock frowned and then raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes... I am trying to keep you safe if you recall. I realized that I'd forgotten to make sure you know how to keep _yourself _safe. Logical precaution, I'd say."

Molly laughed lightly. "Right, sure. Logical... So what if you'd been wrong? I mean, what if I did know how to defend myself already? I had no idea who you were. I could have really hurt you!"

He chuckled as he dug around in his food. "Molly, even if you had some skills, I was never in any real danger."

"Awfully confident." she said with a small wag of her head.

"Defense skills or not, I could still easily overpower you. Besides, I also could have identified myself sooner."

Molly gave him a slightly playful glance. "What makes you think that would have helped you? If I knew how to hurt you in that moment, I think I still would have, even if I'd heard your voice behind me. I've hurt you before."

"Slapping me when I'm high doesn't count. I could have been high enough that my senses and reflexes were dulled to the point that I could do nothing about the impending strike. Or I was allowing you to slap me, knowing that you genuinely believed I deserved it and also apparently had some pent up frustration in your personal life that needed letting out. Either way it's nothing to put on your self defense resume." he concluded with a half smile before taking another bite of food.

Molly thought for a moment. "So, wait, not to change the subject but... which was it then?"

Sherlock looked at her with a face of mock confusion. "Which was what?"

"You know what I mean Sherlock." she pressed, looking at him expectantly. "Why was I able to slap you."

Sherlock then looked off into the distance, pursing his lips as if in thought, and taking a deep breath. Then he looked back at her with a little gleam in his eyes. "Well, I guess you'll never know now will you?"

Molly held his gaze for a moment, glaring at him but also feeling her lips involuntarily curl a tiny bit in smile. He looked terribly pleased with himself.

"Sherlock, if you're trying to motivate me into learning how to hurt you... you're doing a very good job."

Sherlock's grin spread.

"I know I am."

* * *

_**Alrighty! It's time for some self defense lessons Sherlolly style mwahahaha! Pitifully enough, I will have to look up some basics in order to write that. Sherlock would not be impressed! So I probably wont be updating again for maybe another week though. Hope you guys all enjoyed this latest. See you next chapter! ;)**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**I'm back about a week later, as promised. And boy am I excited about what has happened since my last update! I can hardly even believe it, but I passed the 200th follower mark and the 300th review mark after chapter 9! *insert marching band, streamers, confetti, and dancers* Yes, I do have one other story that gained a larger amount of traffic. But I know it took way more than 9 chapters to reach that point! So this is rather thrilling to me. :)) Thanks again to all my faithful readers! You guys are always so kind, and I love knowing that you look forward to each update. It's highly motivating!**_

_**Speaking of which! Here's the long (sort of) awaited chapter 10! I know I got a lot of you pretty siked for the Sherlolly self defense lesson hehe. So **__**I hope it lives up to all of your expectations. Hey, if nothing else, I learned a lot! I'm ready to kick some butt lol!... I look forward to hearing your thoughts! Now get to readin! ;)**_

_****__**Oh and PS- I'm trusting the internet (and other fan fiction I've read) in that the British word for a man's undershirt is a "vest."... Ok, carry ok.**_

* * *

Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom a while after they'd both eaten, saying that he needed to change. A few minutes later he reemerged wearing some pajama bottoms and his vest. When he walked back into the kitchen, Molly gave him a look that was half embarrassment and half amusement.

"What?" he questioned, looking at her, then down at himself.

"Just... nothing." and she pressed her lips together.

"I'm not going to do this wearing my trousers and shirt! I doubt that's how an attacker would be dressed."

"A bit unfair though. I don't get to wear anything more comfortable."

"Exactly. That's the point of learning self defense. Any physically dangerous situation you'd be in is unfair. Don't learn how to protect yourself wearing clothing that you'd exercise in. You'd likely be in anything but that in a real life scenario. Are you wearing anything under that jumper though?" he asked while examining her attire.

"Oh, yes. I have a t-shirt on."

"Good. Then just take the jumper off, and that's all the changing you need."

"Alright." she said a bit hesitantly and then took the garment off.

Sherlock walked over to his chair by the fireplace and took a seat. Then he gestures for her to sit in Johns chair. Molly frowned at him as she approached slowly.

"Is my attacker going to offer to have a chat with me by the fire?"

"No. But the first part of your lesson isn't physical at all. You need to learn how to avoid an attack in the first place... Never take the tube if it's late at night and you're likely to be one of the only ones there. Never take a short cut that's out of the way. Stay where there are people if at all possible. At this point the reporters take second place in our list of concerns. Because at least they likely don't want to hurt you."

"So you do believe Moriarty wants to hurt me." she asked sadly.

"I honestly don't know what sort of interest Moriarty takes in you. I only know that probably he doesn't want to kill me. If he wanted me dead or just gone he could have let me be exiled. What he wants is my attention, and he wants to hurt me when possible."

"He did want to kill you in the past though."

"True. But I was there with him, in his supposed moment of glory. And he wasn't all that happy. He was almost... disappointed. He said I was the best distraction he had, and now he'd beaten me. He was like a child who wanted to win a game, but once it was done they only wished they could start over. So, no, I don't believe he wants to kill me. He wants me around, because nobody else challenges him like I do."

"But it's possible he could still try to kill your friends?"

Sherlock let out a slow breath. "Yes. It's certainly possible. Though not definite. There's also the chance that he wouldn't want to 'throw away' some good leverage with a single bullet, and then have nothing left to work with. But the point is that at the very least, he could want to hurt you... Anyway, be extra cautious at your flat as well. If anyone knocks at your door, do not open unless you know the person. Really know them."

"Oh I don't. I never do that. My father was always going on about that!"

"Good. And if they become insistent about your opening the door, best to simply make a quick exit. Go out the fire escape, and call 999... And then call me of course."

"Of course." she said softly, and thought how warm that made her feel, that he'd require her calling him as well.

"Now! Let's assume just for a moment, that someone is simply trying to kill you. This is valid instruction, not just in the case of Moriarty, but in any case. Especially now with your very public connection to me... Trust me when I say that if anyone pulls a gun on you, you must run. You _always_ run." and Sherlock had then leant forward in his chair and was looking at her intently.

Molly swallowed as she looked back at him. "Ok."

"I mean it. It's actually highly unlikely that they would get a kill shot if you run. But if they tell you not to move, and you listen, they almost surely will. And when you run, try not to run in a straight line. Run in as random a pattern as possible, thus making it more difficult for them to aim."

"Ok." she said again, nodding her head. "I can do that."

"Good." he said simply, then got up from his seat. "Now, let's assume they simply want to hurt you or abduct you. Time to get up Molly."

She rose from her seat, and almost the moment she was on her feet, Sherlock darted forward and grabbed both her wrists in his hands.

"Hey!" Molly exclaimed and tried to pull back, with no success.

"Nobody dangerous is going to warn you before they attack. I'm not giving you that luxury either."

"Well what am I supposed to do?" she grunted, still trying to pull backward.

"Stop pulling. I'm stronger than you are, and it's a fight you'll never win. You have to come closer."

"What? Closer?" she frowned.

"Trust me, this works, and it doesn't waste time and energy. Take a couple steps toward me, that's right. Not bend your arms with the goal of bringing your elbows close to my own. Good. Now look what's happened. My wrists are bent at an awkward angle. This alone may force them to let go. But if not... now I want you to yank your arms straight upward."

Molly then did this and was easily able to pull free from Sherlock's hands.

"Wow. Were you loosening the grip?"

"No. I'm not going to do anything unrealistic like that. It's just the angle you created. It allows for you to have the greater freedom of movement. Let's try it a few more times, just so you can practice."

Sherlock grabbed her wrists three more time and each time she bend her arms and was able to wrench them upward and away. And she gained some more speed with the movement as she became more comfortable.

"There. Good." he said with a nod, satisfied at her competency. Then he looked down and narrowed his eyes. He reached out and gently lifted one of Molly's hands in his own.

Molly's already rapid pulse doubled as he did this, and his thumb very lightly felt the the skin on her wrist as he looked over the area that was a bit red. He raised his eyes to hers again.

He looked a little sheepish, and said in a low voice, "Perhaps I should have been more unrealistically gentle."

Molly licked her lips quickly, trying to gain the ability to push an answer out.

"Uh, n-no. I'm fine actually. Really, I am. I'm just very fair, that's all. I turn red very easily." she said, and immediately thought, _oh stupid wording._

Sherlock smirked very slightly as he looked back at her. "Yes, I can see that." he said, and then released her hand. Then he spoke again.

"Right. Now I'll go over a frontal attack. I'll grab you by the neck- don't worry, I won't make this realistic." and then he gently closed his fingers around her throat.

Molly's hands instinctively went up to grasp his forearms.

"Again, that's a waste of time, and of the little air that you would have circulating. Now, if my arms are bent, you can reach me."

Sherlock moved one hand off her neck and took her hand, placing it at the base of his throat. Molly tried not to let her expression obviously change as her fingers contacted his warm skin. Then he placed his hand back on her neck.

"If you press backward using that hand, you're compromising my airway. And it would force me to at least loosen my grip, probably allowing you to get away. Remember, that in any of these scenarios, all you need to do is make a getaway. There's no need to cause a certain amount of damage or continue to fight them off. I just want you to get away. That's all." he instructed, very seriously.

"I understand. Don't worry, I don't think I'd be interested in hanging around any longer than I have to."

He nodded, then gently replaced his hands around her neck. "Now if my arms are extended like this, you can no longer reach me since my arms are longer than yours. And likely your attacker's would be as well. So instead, take your right hand and swing it around and over my arms as you also turn your body. And as you turn, you'd swing your left arm over and hit me in the neck."

Molly swung her right arm over and turned, then let her left hand come around as well. Although she meant to not actually make contact, she did, and her hand landed instead on the side of his face.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry!" and she automatically reached out to touch his cheek briefly.

Sherlock laughed lightly. "It's fine, really. Nothing I haven't felt before." and he raised a teasing eyebrow. "Though in reality, do try to aim for the neck. It's a good deal more effective."

They practiced that move a few more times till Molly felt more competent.

"Alright, now turn around and I'll attack you from behind, like before."

Molly turned around and was very soon rewarded with warm arms wrapping snuggly around her body and arms, and holding her in place with her back against his chest. There was a second of stillness and neither of them said anything. Molly certainly had no desire to struggle right now.

"You're not doing anything." Sherlock said, near her ear.

"Yes well... you're not telling me what to do." she whispered back.

"Ah, right, sorry..." he cleared his throat." So in this case, you may have some mobility in your lower arms. If you do, you would want to swing back and hit as hard as you can in the groin area... Let's skip practicing that one."

Molly snorted out a laugh, then he continued.

"If you can't move your arms much, make use of your head. You can swing your head back as hard as possible and hopefully make contact with my face... Again, let's skip the practical application... Now even if I lift you up, attempting to take you somewhere..."

"Ooh!" Molly squeaked as he lifted her feet from the ground and began walking backward. "How can you be so strong? You don't look this strong!"

There was a second's hesitation behind her, then Sherlock said. "As a side note, insults are rarely an effective deterrent against an attacker."

Molly couldn't control the nervous giggling, and it took her a moment to catch her breath. "No, no! I- I just mean you're... you're not a big man. Well, I mean you're not small either though! You are tall! But you're just... slight. No, not slight! I meant slim! Yes, slim, that's the right word. You're tall and slim, and you look um... really good." her words slowed at the end and then she squeezed her eyes and lips shut in embarrassment at the torrent of ridiculous things that were pouring from her mouth.

Sherlock chuckled a little and she could feel it vibrate against her back. "Perhaps this is a good time to tell you that compliments would also do little to help the situation. Anyway... You can still use your head, for one thing. And this also gives you an excellent opportunity to kick. Aim for the knees if you can and you'd just want to kick as hard as possible. This should either drop your attacker to the ground or make them loosen their grip enough for you to squirm free."

Then Sherlock set her back on the ground and let his arms slide away. Molly took a small step away and turned to face him again. She suddenly felt that there was some unnamed tension between them, and Sherlock was looking at her almost as if he didn't know what to do next. But then he looked away briefly and he swallowed slowly before he spoke again.

"It is of course possible that your attacker could manage to take you to the... ground." then he met her eyes again, a bit nervously.

"The ground?" she questioned, and glanced from the floor back up to him.

"Yes, it would also be useful for you to be able to get away in that situation... Shall we?" and he gestured downward.

She stared back at him for a moment. "Um, ok." and she hesitantly lowered herself and sat down on the floor.

There she sat and Sherlock sat on his knees a couple feet away from her. They looked at each other for a few seconds before he finally took some initiative.

"Right, so... I am going to need to get... on you. Is that alright?"

Molly had to stop herself from laughing. Not even so much because of what he said, but more how he looked when he said it. This was the same man who had grabbed her in the middle of a pub and given her a life altering kiss. And yet here, sitting with her on his own living room floor, he looked completely out of his depth.

"Yes Sherlock, that would be fine." Molly answered in a controlled voice and a business like expression.

She leaned back on the floor against her elbows, and Sherlock somewhat hesitantly climbed over her with a knee on each side torso and then leaned forward just a bit, holding her down gently by her shoulders. They looked at each other for a moment, and before Sherlock had a chance to say anything, Molly spoke.

"What are the chances somebody hasn't written or drawn this very thing occurring on this very floor within the past two weeks?"

"They have." he answered immediately.

"Oh, you really think so? I was actually joking."

"Oh I'm not. I'm sorry to say I'm very serious... Though the outcome and attire was quite different."

Molly felt her face heat up again and suddenly had a difficult time making eye contact with the face above her.

"Sorry I brought that up." she said quickly."Shouldn't make jokes."

"Fine... not a problem." and he cleared his throat. "So... it's actually rather easy to flip a person who's above you, even if they're stronger and larger. All about leverage. You could of course try to swing and hit with your arms, but it would do little good. My face and neck are too far up for you to reach. So you'll be much better off if you just get me off you."

_A strong case could be made for the opposite,_ Molly thought to herself.

"Take your right hand and grasp my right wrist, and your left arm will hold onto my right upper arm."

"Like this?"

"Exactly... Now, take your left leg and move it to the outside of my right foot, thereby trapping it."

Molly did this also.

"What you've done is to trap the right side of my body. So if you then raise your hips and roll over to your left, I shouldn't be able to do much. And of course then you regain the ability to get up and away from the person."

Molly nodded. Then Sherlock spoke again.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Oh ok, you actually want me to... Um alright."

With a renewed flood of embarrassment, Molly then raised her hips and pushed over to the side, flipping them over. Then she quickly backed away, not wanting to stay hanging out in that awkward place for long.

"Good." he said with a nod as he raised up on his elbows. "Let's try that again."

_Oh God_, Molly thought. _Please just let me be able to control my face from blushing for the next five minutes_!

Sherlock climbed over her again, more easily this time, a bit of the embarrassment having melted away. Molly did the same thing again twice, slowly following the steps. And she was genuinely surprised at how easy it was to throw a much larger and stronger person right off her. These were skills that were useful whether she was the subject of tabloid gossip being watched by Moriarty... or not.

"Where did you learn all this?" she asked taking a couple deep breaths after sitting down again next to him.

Sherlock shrugged. "Picked up some tips from clients, personal research, learning the hard way, and the list goes on. I couldn't be successful in my work if I were completely useless physically. I can't rely on my mind for everything... Almost everything, but not quite." he said with a smile.

Molly nodded. "Pretty useful."

He didn't answer for a moment, then nudged her with his elbow. "Come on, one more time. This time try to incorporate some speed. If you can't _surprise _someone, then what good is an attack?" and he gave her a teasing look.

Molly groaned as she complied and lay on her back again. He was trying to provoke her. She smiled to herself inwardly. If he wanted speed and surprise, she'd give it to him...

Sherlock barely had time to position himself over her before she grabbed his arm and trapped his leg like lightening, then instantly flipped them over. Sherlock let out a grunt as his back hit the floor much harder this time. Then, instead of quickly crawling away, Molly immediately pinned him to the ground in the same way he had done to her. She grinned down at him as he looked up in surprise.

"Surprise!" she said in a purposefully sweet voice.

Sherlock looked like he was trying not to crack a smile. "I could flip you right back over you know."

"I'd like to see you try." And Molly grabbed his arms, trying to immobilize them.

Of course Sherlock easily twisted his arms free and did then flip her back over, though she would later decide that he'd clearly made some sort of effort to be gentle on the hard floor. She started laughing as she reached up to push him but he got hold of her wrists and prevented her.

"Ok, which was it?" she asked while laughing and straining to free her arms. "Did you let me slap you? Or were you really that high?"

Sherlock cocked his head and smiled. "Still haven't worked that one out yet? That must be terribly frustrating!"

In the midst of the giggling, she was able to angle her arms like he taught her, and break free. The second her arms were free she rolled them back over again. And by this time, when she sat there pinning him, they were both laughing. She realized that he wasn't fighting this time, and she simply sat there, trying to catch her breath. When she finally stilled the laughter a bit, she looked down at him and said,

"I deduce," at which point he raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "that you did let me slap you. But I don't think it was because _I _believed you deserved it. I think it was because _you _did."

His expression changed and became more serious, though he didn't look angry. Molly paused for a moment, then leaned forward to rest her hands on the floor above each of his shoulders, bringing her face a little closer for effect. She then continued in a slightly softer voice.

"In fact I think you knew that you'd had it coming for _quite _a long time. Perhaps in more ways than one... Am I getting warm detective?" and she raised her own eyebrow in question.

Sherlock stared up at her, unable to tear his eyes away. He instantly began to justify it... P_hysical activity, exercise, increased heart rate, all causing the release of endorphins. Not a surprising end result. There's nothing unusual about this. If I can just look away, I'll stop wanting to push that piece of hair back behind her ear that fell out of her ponytail. All I have to do is look away... _But instead he kept his eyes locked to hers and realized how low and soft his voice had gotten once he answered her.

"You are Molly... getting warm."

His answer, or maybe more accurately the way he said it, caused Molly's expression to turn a bit more serious as well. She noticed how he visibly swallowed as he continued examining her face. Molly wasn't sure if she should move. Or if so, which direction should she move in? Forward, or backward?

Sherlock's gaze fell on the strand of hair again, and for some unnamed reason, it embodied this visual connection that he couldn't break. All he could think about was that strand of hair and how he wanted to take it and gently put it right back where it was supposed to be. He felt his arm begin to move, almost of its own accord, but it wouldn't follow through completely. He felt like an idiot a second later, for verbalizing what he was focusing on.

"Your-" and he closed his lips for just a second again before continuing, as if it were difficult to say. "Hair."

Molly had to take a second to realize what he was looking at and talking about, because of course it was a strange conversation shift. Then her eyes shifted to the side a bit and saw the loose strand. "Oh. Right, um... Thanks." and she tucked it behind her ear.

Sherlock then had a sinking feeling. Because that did not solve the problem. The hair had been neatly tucked away, but so help him... He still wanted to reach up and touch her...

"Molly..." he began, but wasn't sure where he was headed. But she spoke instead where he'd trailed off.

"Sorry, do you... Want me to move?" she said in not much above a whisper, and she thought to herself what a ridiculous question that was. What exactly was she expecting the answer to be?

"Molly..." he tried again, but still didn't get much further."I..."

They were frozen like that, and barely noticed the sound in the distance of footsteps and a voice. The voice became a bit louder in the background, but neither really registered the whole thing till it was a bit late.

"Sherlock! I think I left my mobile here! I tried calling you, but you didn't-"

And there was John, standing in the open doorway, holding the knob of the door that he'd swung open. He stood there staring back at the two of them on the floor with that familiar _I've missed something, haven't I? _look on his face.

There was a moment's pause, where not a word was spoken. Then John nodded slowly before he finally opened his mouth.

"Yeah, I think this would be a perfect time to remind you of what a good friend I am. Because you do realize that with what I've just witnessed, there's about a dozen papers that would love to make me a very rich man."

Sherlock began to sit up, which also broke Molly out of her fog. She then quickly climbed off of him and got to her feet. Sherlock did the same, though they both continued to look a bit like deer in the headlights.

"Relax John. What you _witnessed_ was a self defense lesson."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" John muttered, just loud enough for Sherlock to hear, as he began scanning the room for his mobile. Though he then noticed that Molly was gathering up her jumper and bag. "Sorry, Molly, you don't have to go. I'm just getting my phone and leaving again."

At that moment Sherlock had seen it on the desk and he shoved it into John's hand.

"Right, see there it is." he said holding up the device for a moment and literally backing slowly out of the room. "So I'm all set, I'll just get going then. Thanks for finding it, Sherlock. Ok, so... I'll talk to you soon. Yeah, alright... Bye."

And then John made his hurried exit with a brief wave to the two of them.

Molly then turned to Sherlock with a slight grimace. "He really didn't have to go."

"Oh I know, but clearly he thought he did. Now he'll be running off to tell our number one fan all about what he just saw." and he ran a hand over his face.

"Oh right, sorry..." Molly said, quietly chastising herself.

"Don't apologize Molly. I'm not that concerned." he replied calmly. Though he sounded a bit hesitant as he added, "Besides... It wasn't just you."

Molly stood there holding her jumper and bag, knowing that this was the end of the night. It was time to take her leave, but she didn't want to go. And she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened had John never arrived. Where was that little scene on the floor headed? What would he have let her do in that moment? At the start, she had naturally resisted the urge to lean down and kiss him soundly. Simply because he was Sherlock. But as the moments had been passing, she began to wonder if he actually would have protested. He had been looking at her in a way that she'd rarely witnessed. And it almost made her throw all caution to the wind. If John hadn't arrived, she wondered if she would have ended up leaning forward and pressing her mouth to those perfect lips of his...

And then she reminded herself that it was a good thing that John had arrived when he did. Because she was probably moments away from making a huge moron of herself.

"Well, I'll get going anyway. I do have to work tomorrow... I appreciate the lesson though Sherlock. Really, I do. I'm sure it'll make me feel a lot more confident when I'm alone."

"Good. I'd like for you to feel safe." he said kindly.

Molly smiled and nodded, then opened the door for herself. But she turned as she was leaving.

"Oh and Sherlock? No more sneaking up on me. You might be sorry next time." she said with a small smirk.

He smiled back at her in response as she then left and closed the door behind her. Sherlock walked over to the window and watched as she left the front door and hailed a cab. A cab finally stopped and she got in. When it drove off, Sherlock walked away from the window and let out a heavy breath. He found himself staring down at the floor. The now quiet and empty place on the floor, which had been quite the opposite only a few minutes before.

Then he whispered to himself, "I might already be sorry."

* * *

**_Oh Sherlock, when will you learn? Well, I'll just have to make sure he learns, wont I?! I'm trying to break down his walls a bit more now, as you can see. And of course I want to continue with the fun media stuff too, but not much of it fit so well with this chapter. So I'll do more of that next time... Though I have to do some brain storming, because I'm a bit jumbled in my plans as to what will be happening next. I'll get on it though and hopefully another chapter will be in the works for later this week. Again, thanks so much for the support on this story, and I'll see you next chapter! ;)_**


	11. Chapter 11

_**I said a few days later, and here I am As promised! So I just have to warn you people that this chapter probably isn't as fun as the last one. Things get a little heavy later in here. But it's stuff that needs to be said! And perhaps you'll enjoy my take on things. I'll let you get to reading! And thanks again for the unreal amount of support and reviews! ;)**_

* * *

"Seriously? Right here?" Mary asked John, keeping her voice low enough that Sherlock wouldn't hear from the kitchen.

"Swear to God, Mary. Right here, on the floor. I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes." John said, keeping his voice low as well.

Mary scoffed a little. "Oh I believe it alright. Though I'm still angry that I didn't get to see it myself. I should have just come with you!" and she pounded her fist in the air in frustration.

"I tried to tell you Molly wouldn't be here today. There really wasn't any point in your coming with me."

It had been four days since the self defense incident John had discovered, and Mary had insisted on accompanying him to Sherlock's flat each time since then. John would have feared for his life when he'd come home and told her the news, if she'd not been pregnant and had terrible mobility. Even as she was, she practically tackled him to the ground in hysterical laughing and shouting of "I knew it!"

"You never know!" she said pointing a finger at her husband. "I will not take the chance that I'll miss something that good again!"

John tried to still his laughter as Sherlock came back into the room. He handed Mary the glass of water she'd requested and then took a seat in his chair.

"Anything new to report Mary?" he asked as he opened the paper.

"Mm, not really. Thankfully for you none of the reporters have learned how to bug your flat. If they had, I think it would crash Twitter!"

Sherlock drew a slow breath and let it out. "Yes, yes I know. The only one who bugs my flat is Mycroft, and I don't particularly care what he sees. In fact, the more I can disturb him, the better."

"So, not that I minded riding along with you two while you wrapped up a case for Lestrade... but this evening is also going to involve food isn't it?" Mary asked hopefully as she took a seat on the couch.

"If only for the benefit of the small and illusive Miss Watson, yes it will." Sherlock said with a smile over toward the couch.

* * *

An hour later, they sat happily around the room with take away containers. Sherlock ate a little, but was mostly busy on his laptop as John and Mary ate and chatted. Suddenly, Mary's mobile began alerting her insistently. She picked it up and began looking, when a look of horror came across her features.

"Oh my God." she murmured.

"What? What is it?" John asked and leaned over to look at the screen.

The two of them stared at her phone in silence, then they slowly looked at each other. They looked over at Sherlock who was still focused on the screen of his laptop. Mary looked back at John.

"You say something." she whispered.

"What do I say? You know he's going to act like it's no big deal." John whispered back.

"He's got to know John!" she hissed. "It is a big deal!"

John grimaced for a moment, then sat up and cleared his throat.

"What is it John? You two are obviously whispering about something over there." Sherlock said, before John could open his mouth.

"Well, yeah... See, there's something on Mary's Twitter feed that maybe you should have a look at."

Sherlock slowly got up and came over closer. John and Mary both got up too, and Mary held her phone out to show him.

Sherlock took the phone from Mary and examined the screen. There were a number of tweets in the feed from various Sherlock Holmes and Sherlolly Twitter accounts. There were a few different pictured featured. But they were all of a man and woman sitting at the table of a cafe, talking and laughing. And in one picture, the man had his hand covering over the woman's... And the woman was Molly. The tweets said things like "Sherlolly on the rocks?!" "No! What's Molly doing?!" "What will Sherlock deduce about this?" And the comments below the tweets were even more forceful and even downright biting. "How dare she betray him? Sherlock better see that she does not deserve him!" ... And that was the edited version.

Sherlock turned and looked back at his friends. John, and even more so Mary, looked like they'd just found out their parents were getting a divorce. They also looked a bit like they were expecting some sort of horrible reaction from him.

"Well?" Mary prompted.

Sherlock cleared his throat, and calmly handed her phone back to her. "Well what?" he answered in his most even voice available.

"I mean... what are you going to do?" she asked.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at them. "What exactly are you expecting me to do? Ride off on my steed and challenge the man to a duel? I think your imagination continues to run away with you Mary." and then he walked back over to his desk and took a seat.

Mary exchanged a look with John and he shrugged.

"So that doesn't bother you at all?" Mary pushed further.

"Molly and I aren't actually dating, if you recall. That fact hasn't changed. The number of inventive gifs and memes don't actually effect the status of our relationship. We are friends. And therefore she can date, or not date, whoever she'd like. If that changes the public's view of us, well then... so be it." and he finished his statement in a somewhat smaller and less convincing voice.

"The public sure doesn't like her as much as they used to!" John commented as he had sat down and continued looking through the tweets. "Maybe she'd be safer from Moriarty this way, but people on the streets might just eat her alive!"

"I mean, don't you at least want to know who he is?" Mary asked desperately.

"As long as he's not a danger, it's... fine." Sherlock answered quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the computer screen.

Mary looked back at John with wide eyes, then back at Sherlock.

"Fine? Fine Sherlock?! Weeks of sexual tension between you two, and now she's on a date with some strange man, and it's '_fine_?!' Do not give me that!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and finally looked away from the computer and at Mary. "You are assuming it's a date, it might not even be a date!"

Mary pointed an accusing finger at him then and grinned, looking pleased with herself. "Ah ha! So you're hoping it's not a date then!"

"I didn't say that." he said shaking his head, but looking like he knew he'd begun to dig himself a hole.

"You didn't have to Sherlock." she said proudly, and took a seat next to John. She looked at her mobile again and kept reading. She continued talking, but it was more to herself, or maybe to her husband sitting next to her.

"God, people are horrified! And mostly they're mad at Molly. Not that I can completely blame them. I mean, I'm surprised. I wouldn't think she'd, you know... She can't really be interested in this guy..." and her voice trailed off. Mary then caught Sherlock looking over at them for a second, but then his gaze darted back to the laptop.

There was some silence for a while as Sherlock continued working away on his computer, and Mary and John finished their food. After a while longer, Sherlock got up from the desk and sat in his chair. He slouched down and closed his eyes, thinking deeply.

Mary looked at John and mouthed "should we leave?" John shook his head. He wasn't unaccustomed to Sherlock's acting as if nobody but him was in the room. So he knew there was no rush to leave. So for a while John and Mary became involved in their own conversation having to do with last minute adjustments in the layout of the flat. And then John began feeling his wife's stomach as she indicated that little Miss Watson was on the move. They smiled as they both felt their baby moving around in the very little space she had left available to her.

Then suddenly Sherlock jumped up and made his way into the kitchen, making the Watsons startle a bit. They heard a number of cabinets open and close. And then the fridge as well. John frowned, and called out to Sherlock in question.

"You looking for something?"

Sherlock didn't answer right away. He first went down the hall and into his bedroom. A moment later, he came back out having discarded his dressing gown that had covered his shirt, and had replaced it with a suit jacket.

"Seems I'm fresh out of fingers." he said matter-of-factly.

"Fingers?" John asked slowly, as he watched Sherlock put his coat on.

"Yes, fingers. The digits at the end of a person's hand... I'll need to get some more."

John looked at Mary, who was trying to control her smile.

"You two don't have to rush off. Make yourselves at home." and he opened the door, making his exit. But he stuck his head back in momentarily before shutting the door. "No need to wait for me though, I'm not sure when I'll be back... Evening."

His curly head then disappeared and the door shut.

Mary's mouth then spread in a full grin as she shoved John playfully. "Oh this is gonna be good! I wish I could have planted a mic on him!"

* * *

Molly sat at her desk in the lab and continued the tedious task of finishing paperwork. This was turning into a truly horrid night at work. She hated hours of paperwork, and hated working late too. And on top of the usual irritants, she had suddenly been turned into the most hated woman in London.

"Stupid, stupid..." she muttered to herself bitterly as she typed away.

Sure, it was all innocent enough. But she should have known better. It doesn't matter what something really is anymore. She should be thinking in terms of how other people could take it and twist it into something wild and crazy and far from reality. And she felt guilty. Which was ridiculous, she knew. There was nothing to feel guilty about. Not only because there was nothing remotely inappropriate about that lunch. But also because of the fact that she had no reason to restrict her social life! She kept reminding herself of this. Just because people believed she and Sherlock were together, that did not mean they were. She had no obligation to be _faithful_ to him... No matter how badly she wanted to be.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the door behind her opening. But instead of a coworker that she expected, she was warmed by the smooth baritone that she'd recognize anywhere. She could swear that she would know the feel of it, even if she weren't able to hear it.

"Why do you insist on doing paperwork?" he questioned, like a child.

Molly turned briefly, then looked back at the computer as she answered. "It is part of my job Sherlock. You do want me to keep my job, don't you?"

"If you put it like that... I'd much rather you were in the morgue though. I'm in need of fingers."

"You have ten."

"Obviously I'd like ones other than my own. I can't exactly experiment on my own fingers."

Molly turned again and smirked at him for a second.

"Yes, I know, I tried it once in desperation. But, as you know, it did not end well. So, when I say I cannot experiment on my own fingers, it's actually a proven statement!... So I do indeed need fingers that are not my own. And preferably not connected to anyone living that I know. Unless you'd be willing to volunteer your own. Though I'd be rather sad to waste your fingers Molly. They're terribly useful in post-mortems, and I think we had only just finished establishing the fact that we'd very much like to have you keep your job."

Molly sighed, smiled, and locked her computer screen. The'd be no getting work done till he was gone. So it was probably wisest to take care of his needs first... Certainly wouldn't be the first time. She got up and turned to see the pleased grin that met her.

"Ok, come on. Let's go downstairs." she said with her own smile of acceptance.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sherlock leaned against an autopsy table as Molly went to get what he'd requested. He waited patiently with his hands in his pockets. And he worked hard at pushing away the idea that he'd not yet done what he'd really come here to do...

"Ok, here we go." she said, holding out the small plastic bag. "Fingers."

Sherlock took the bag and held it up, turning it back and forth and examining it. Then he looked down at her with a slightly pouty face.

"There's only four."

Molly sighed and gave him a weary look. "And that's four more fingers than you came in here with ten minutes ago. Shouldn't you be saying thank you?"

Sherlock cleared his throat while taking one more look at the bag, then he mustered up a small smile. "Yes... thank you."

"You're welcome... Anything else?" she asked quite innocently, but was praying that this wasn't really all he came in for.

Sherlock opened his mouth, then pressed it closed again and looked away for a moment. _I'm not here for anything else, I didn't come for anything but the fingers, I don't need anything else, and I don't need to know anything else... But... of course Mary would never let me hear the end of it if I didn't investigate further into the events of this supposed lunch date. I'll have to hear about it for days and days on end. Yes... yes, it's better to just get the facts and then move along. Much much better. Completely legitimate to need this basic information._

"Oh, incidentally... are you aware that you were photographed again recently?" Sherlock then added casually.

Molly's face immediately colored and she looked at her feet for a second before looking back at him. She answered in a small voice. "Um... yes, I am aware. That was... unfortunate. Was that, um, a dangerous thing to do?" and she looked a little nervous.

"Dangerous? No, no. I highly doubt it."

"Oh. Good."

"Yes. I'm sure Moriarty is unconcerned with your fidelity."

His use of the word fidelity caused an invisible knife to stab her to the heart.

"Oh. I see." she said in an even smaller voice.

Sherlock began to notice the fact that she was somehow upset by this whole situation. "I'm sure he's much more concerned with my feeling on things. That's always going to be what he tries to exploit. The worst you've done is to gain yourself some angry fans." and he gave her a slightly comforting smile.

Molly didn't really smile back though. She still looked like a child who'd been called to the main office at school. "It wasn't- it wasn't what it... looked like."

_She's worried about how it appeared to me_ he thought as he looked at her somewhat pleading eyes. He answered her then, and knew he was lying through his teeth.

"There's no need to explain Molly. It's fine."

"Yes, but... I'd like to anyway."

Sherlock then set the bag down on the table behind him, indicating his willingness to listen.

"So... his name is Bobby. He went to medical school with me. We were friends. Well, alright, we were briefly more than that. But mostly we were just friends. He's nice... Anyway, he was here giving a lecture, and Mike Stamford happened to mention my name. So he said he wanted to come see me. Then he offered to buy me lunch down the road so we could catch up. So I went. And we had lunch, and we caught up, and he told me all about how his life is going... And that was all. Of course, it didn't really look that was all, based on the pictures."

"That's what they're good at that. The paparazzi, I mean." Sherlock answered.

"As we well know." she said with a smile.

Sherlock tried to utter the next set of words as evenly and casually as possible. "And you'll be seeing him again?"

Molly immediately shook her head. "Oh no! He lives a couple hours away. He was just visiting for the lecture, and he didn't say anything about coming back any time soon."

"I see."

There was a moment of silence and Molly finally spoke again. "So, um, is this it then? I mean, do people think we're not together anymore?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Not sure it's as simple as that. They may give you the benefit of the doubt and assume he was a friend. Or they may just see it as a rough patch. Or as we've said before, it may not even matter if they don't think we're together. They do _ship_ us after all." and he smirked.

She couldn't help a shy smile at that statement as he continued.

"Though it is possible that this could be the beginning of the end for the truly mad media interest. This may have been enough to throw off their false beliefs. So perhaps you've done yourself a favor. Perhaps your life will get easier now. I'm sure this has... complicated things for you recently. Socially, I mean." Sherlock then said with a look of slight discomfort.

"Oh. You mean, dating? Oh, that's fine, really. No problem. I'm not really interested in dating." and she shook her head for emphasis.

Sherlock frowned a little in confusion. "You do remember that you almost got married recently. How is it that you are suddenly uninterested in dating?"

Molly started to get nervous about this conversation. How do you explain to someone why you don't want to date, without telling them that _they're_ the reason?

"Um, well, that was just different. It wasn't even that I was looking to get married originally. I mean, I wasn't even looking to date when I met Tom." she winced and wondered why she couldn't learn to keep her mouth shut and remember that less is more!

Sherlock frowned. "And yet, you did indeed date the man. And then you become engaged."

"Well... yes. I suppose. But..." and Molly hesitated. "I really never should have."

"Why?"

_Oh God_, she thought. _Such a simple question. But it's so hard to answer._

"Because it was just... silly. I shouldn't have even started dating him because..." Molly paused and took a deep breath. "We're friends right?"

Sherlock nodded silently.

"So, I can tell you this, right?" she asked, but it was more of a rhetorical question. "It's just that, I always felt guilty about the way I met Tom."

"You met him through friends." he stated tentatively.

Molly grimaced slightly. "Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration. I suppose my friends were technically _there_. But that's not exactly how I met him."

Sherlock stared back at her, realizing that she felt she needed to tell him this. Whatever _this_ was. And there was a part of him that didn't want to say he wasn't interested, or that he didn't need to know this. So he said, "Go on."

Molly took another breath, then walked over to stand next to him and also lean against the autopsy table. Then she continued.

"So, you'd been gone a little over a year. I didn't know how long you'd be gone, of course. I know you'd said it could be quite some time, but I had no idea what that meant. So, I was beginning to worry that you were never coming back. And I was afraid that I'd have to go to my grave with your secret. Which would be ok! Except, I didn't even know if you were still alright. I wondered if you really were dead, somewhere. I was afraid of the not knowing. For who knows how long." she paused to swallow.

Sherlock felt guilty himself, as he watched her speak. He'd rarely considered, while he'd been away, all the things that could have been plaguing this small woman's mind.

"Anyway, I was feeling particularly... low one evening. And a couple of my girlfriends convinced me to go to a pub with them. I really didn't want to go. But they wouldn't hear of me staying home. I couldn't even explain why I was upset. All everyone thought was that I was still feeling badly because a man I happen to work with sometimes had died over a year ago. I couldn't really correct them, and I couldn't offer a truthful explanation... So anyway, I went with them to the pub. I figured I wouldn't mind having a couple drinks. I sat there at the table almost the whole time, by myself. So I'd had a couple drinks and was feeling a bit overwhelmed at that moment. A bit... alone."

Sherlock couldn't stay silent any longer. "I'm sorry Molly." he whispered.

"No, it's fine." she said with a smile and a small shake of her head. "You don't have to be sorry, really. I was the one being silly... Anyway, there I sat at the little table, with the music blasting and the lights pretty low. And suddenly, I looked up..."

And then Molly stopped and looked across the morgue, as if she were demonstrating what had actually happened that night.

"... And I saw you." she said simply.

Sherlock froze. _Of course_ he thought. He wondered how he'd not realized it before this. He probably hadn't wanted to see it.

"I saw you standing there in your long wool coat, with your hands locked behind your back, and your hair outlining your face... Or, what little I could see of your face. It was dark... So, I dropped my drink. I literally dropped it onto the table, and I felt like I couldn't breath. I didn't think, in that moment, why would he suddenly show up in a pub? Why would he be here? It wouldn't make sense. I didn't think, I just got up and crossed the room, barely able to take steps. I finally got there, and I stopped right behind him. And I almost said your name, but then he turned around right before I could open my mouth."

"Tom." Sherlock said somberly.

She nodded silently, then went on. "That hit me even harder somehow, than when I'd thought I saw you. It was like the biggest let down you can imagine. In those thirty seconds, you were back, and life was normal again. And then suddenly I was sent right back to all the worries I thought I was free of. I felt like such an idiot too. I even hated myself a little for thinking that someone else could be you... So, like a complete fool, I started to tear up. Tom was concerned of course. He turns around to find some silly woman beginning to weep! So he takes my arm and sits me down at his table and tries to ask me what's wrong. I did mutter something about thinking he was someone else. He said he was sorry he wasn't who I thought. And then I got angry. Angry at myself, for even hoping that it was you, for even caring if it was you. And so I told him it was ok. I said it was ok that he wasn't who I'd thought. In fact I went so far as to lie, and say I was actually glad. And then I asked him his name, and he asked to buy me a drink... I guess you could say the rest is history."

Sherlock stood there silently digesting all of this. He wasn't sure exactly what to say. His own emotions were conflicted. The true story both disturbed and touched him. He'd felt bad enough that he'd caused his other friends the pain that he had. But if questioned, he would have summed up Molly's inconvenience in a simple 'she had to keep a secret' or perhaps 'she missed me.' But he realized that he had been massively over simplifying it. The reality had been a much deeper hurt. A hurt that he hadn't understood till now. And the fall out meant an unexpected (and deep down possibly unwanted) relationship, that eventually ended in hurt as well. Which led him to his next question.

"How long did it take Tom to realize who you actually thought he was?"

"Well, he didn't really figure it out until you came back, and he met you. We got home that night and had a very long talk. That was actually when I told him everything. I told him about your coming to me for help... all of it. I hope you can see why I felt badly for him at the time, and why I had tried to be so honest. I know now he wasn't worth it, of course. And I wish it hadn't happened at all... but there you have it." she shrugged.

"I understand Molly, and there's no need to feel sorry. Perhaps I could have even prevented it... What would have happened if I'd kept in touch while I was away? Even once in a great while."

"Um, I suppose my mind would have been more at ease, knowing you were ok. And I would have known you hadn't totally... forgotten about all of us."

"And would you have been with Tom?" the second the question left his lips, he realized what he was actually asking. And he felt like he shouldn't have asked it. What sort of question was that? In essence, he was asking if she would have stayed away from another man if he had remained in contact with her.

And from the way Molly looked at him, it seemed she had felt the very same weight attached to the question. She thought about saying something vague like, 'oh, who knows?' or 'it's really hard to say now. That was so long ago.' But then she thought,_ if he's willing to ask a question like that, then I'm not going to give anything but a straight answer_. And she looked him right in the eyes, as she gave it.

"You know I wouldn't have." she whispered.

She was right, he did know. Not only did his asking the question frighten him, but it frightened him that he already knew the answer. And the truth was, that perhaps deep down he knew it all those years ago too. If he was honest with himself, he had probably understood that this could be a chance for her to move along with her life. Because he truly did believe that she should.

"Yes, I suppose I do know that." he responded just as softly.

Molly let out a slow breath and finally pulled her eyes away from his. "Well, I've gotten away from that paperwork for much too long haven't I?" she said brightly, trying to change the tone of the conversation.

"I'll let you go then." he said in a back to business sort of voice, and picked up his small bag of fingers. He began making his way to the door right away.

They both left the morgue and when they'd gotten back upstairs to the lab, Molly moved to go inside, while Sherlock stopped.

"I'll see you later then... Maybe not in the papers so much though." she said, and it didn't come out as hopeful as she'd meant it to sound.

"Maybe not." he said with a half smile, then began to walk away.

"Sherlock?" she called out, making him turn again. And then Molly smiled a little. "It wasn't... all that bad."

He offered another small smile. "No, it wasn't."

Sherlock turned and walked away then. And he wondered if this really did mark the end of the public's obsession about himself and Molly. It was possible. Especially if passage of time was factored in. And so things could conceivably go back to normal.

And Sherlock began to wonder exactly how he felt about that.

* * *

_**Do not be fooled! This does not spell the end of the media hype about them! I just wanted to clarify that in case anyone was like, "what's this?! If she's dropping that, then I'm dropping the story!" Lol! Ok, I can't really see you guys being THAT harsh. But still, I didn't want you to get the wrong impression. Oh and I hope you liked my little version of why Molly really started dating Tom. Pretty plausible I feel! Ok, so I will be hopefully updating again soon. See you next chapter! ;)**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Ok, so I get a bit wordy and descriptive in a lot of this chapter. There's not as much of the fun banter that I usually go crazy with. But I hope that you'll all enjoy this chapter! I put a lot of thought into it, and the order of events. Speaking of which, props to Sherlockedinseattle for giving me some fabulous ideas as to how things would play out! And she also gave me some lovely song ideas which I was able to make mention of in this chapter... you'll see!** **Oh and thanks again for the amazing support. I hit and passed the 400 review mark! I've NEVER had that many reviews. Not even on my longest story I've done! So thanks a million!... Ok, now read! ;)**_

* * *

The next week was somewhat uneventful for Sherlock. He took a few cases, but they were nothing too exciting. Nothing over a six. He spend a lot of extra time in his flat, playing his violin, or maybe doing some experimenting. But despite the fact that he wasn't overrun with cases, Sherlock had opted not to frequent Bart's in search of body parts or for the fun of observing the occasional autopsy.

It appeared to be the wise course. There did seem to be a shift in the level of media fascination lately. Even before the incident with Molly's supposed lunch date, there had been relatively little for the papers and the internet to feed off of. And as Sherlock had predicted from the start, eventually they would lose interest. So he figured that if the interest was starting to wane, it would be an appropriate time to keep some distance. He quickly found that this wasn't easy though.

He did it for Molly, really. He still rightly felt responsible for the way this whole things had started. And regardless of the feelings that she previously or perhaps even currently had for him, there was nothing positive for her in becoming the focus of tabloid gossip. She had a nice little life, and he knew she liked it that way. He didn't want to rob her of that. After all the woman had done for him, he felt it was only right that he at least notcontinue to turn her whole world upside down.

He spent some free time in his mind palace that week as well. There was a lot to catalogue from the past few weeks... There should have been a lot more to delete. But every time he came across some little bit of information that he would normally toss, he found some sort of reason not to. _The way Molly's hair smells may be a useful piece of information. Always wise to know which brands and products those around you use. Could help clear their name one day... It's probably important to know what Molly's normal vs. elevated respiration and heart rates are. Makes it so much easier to read someone... _There were lots of little details like that to be sorted out . And then, of course, there was the kiss itself.

Now Sherlock didn't even possess the skills to literally delete the entire event from his mind. He'd never been able to do such a thing. He would always have a memory of the event in general. But the particulars of it... those were what gave him trouble. He tried to delete the details at first. How her lips tasted, the exact pressure that she offered on her side of the kiss, the small changes in her breathing patterns depending on his own mouth's movements, the quiet sighs, the way her small hands felt on his skin when they'd eventually made their way to his neck, and the way she'd gazed up at him after it was all over.

He eventually found that these things couldn't be deleted. There seemed to be no getting rid of them. So then he moved on to plan B. Justifying their presence. That was also difficult. He was having trouble coming up with business like reasons as to why he needed to know what Molly's mouth tasted like. And it was difficult to explain to himself why he needed to remember the breathy sounds that he not only heard, but also felt against her lips. Any reason to keep those things would logically have to include the idea that the information would be used _again._ He could come up with nothing legitimate. And that was frustrating. There were very few memories that Sherlock ever chose to carefully store away that had absolutely no _useful _reason to be kept. But after enough days of mental struggle, he found that these memories would just have to stay. And he could come up with no other reason besides the fact that he simply couldn't let them go.

He eventually came to plan C. Accept these details and memories as a small indulgence. He'd had precious few real kisses in his life. But he'd had enough to know... that was a very good one, for reasons that he'd realized were innumerable, after his extensive sorting of the details. So it was worth keeping. If nothing else, it could become a standard. Something to compare to... Not that he had any sort of desire to kiss other women and then compare it to the perfection of his kiss with Molly...

And it was a thought like that which was seriously troubling to him.

Peppering the days of that week, were also a number of notices from Mary about the shift in social media. Apparently the public now believed him to be in a lovesick state. The little video clips and picture slideshows that were being created were now much more somber. The songs being used, to name only a few, were... Say Something by A Great Big World, I Can't Make You Love Me by Bonnie Raitt, Poison & Wine by The Civil Wars, We Might As Well Be Strangers by Keanne, Someone Like You by Adele, Ashes And Wine by A Fine Frenzy, and Slow Dancing In A Burning Room by John Mayer.

Seeing as it wasn't a terribly busy week for him, and he did enjoy good music, Sherlock took to listening to some of the music that was floating around the internet as the soundtrack to his and Molly's "breakup." Some of it he found to be genuinely good. In spare time, usually at night when sleep eluded him, he would take some of these newly discovered songs and challenge himself to play some on his violin. He found some strange comfort in these sad songs, and felt that he'd gained some insight into the idea that people ironically listened to depressing music during depressing times in their lives... Not that this was a depressing time in _his _life of course, he'd remind himself. But it was interesting nonetheless.

The morning that marked a week since he'd last been into Bart's or seem Molly at all, he got a text from her.

HI. HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN HERE FOR A WHILE. YOU MUST BE BUSY... I DO HAVE A COUPLE INTERESTING AUTOPSIES ON SCHEDULE THOUGH. YOU'RE WELCOME TO WATCH IF YOU'VE GOT NOTHING ELSE. :) -MH

It was somewhat unusual. Molly didn't usually contact him unless there was a specific reason. Or unless he'd instructed her to, for some reason. This was more of an open invitation. She was simply asking if he's like to have a visit. He considered the possibility that she thought something was wrong. He didn't usually stay away for so many days on end. He stared at the text for a very long time before finally answering.

THANK YOU... BUT WORKING TODAY. -SH

It was sort of true. John was going to be over soon and they were planning on sifting through the inbox and attempting to find some worthwhile cases. Under more normal circumstances, Sherlock absolutely would have abandoned the prospect of mediocre cases in favor of observing some interesting autopsies. But he reminded himself that things were going well in the way of media losing interest. This wasn't the time to go running off to Bart's again just for fun. Molly would thank him later, he was sure.

* * *

John arrived about a half hour later and there wasn't a huge rush to get work going. John made some tea, Sherlock took the trouble of actually putting normal clothes on, and Mrs. Hudson came up for a chat so John could update her on how Mary was doing. When all was said and done, it was almost an hour later when they sat down to begin looking through emails. Or rather, John sat down to read and Sherlock listened when he felt like it.

"No. Too obvious."

"It's not obvious to them Sherlock! They wouldn't be emailing you if it was. We don't have a lot of options, so you may as well pick one of these. Actually... yeah, those are _all _the options. So you'll _have_ to pick one of those. I didn't come over so you could insult all your emails and take no cases."

Sherlock didn't respond, and instead picked up his phone which was buzzing on the table beside his chair. John groaned and leaned back in his chair as Sherlock muttered and "excuse me" and walked into the kitchen.

"Hello Mary." he said as he peered into the fridge. Time to examine the options for experiments since this day wasn't panning out the way he hoped.

"Sherlock, I need you to check your email that I just sent you!" she said immediately.

"Yes, I was just going through them." he replied calmly.

"No, I need you to look now! I sent you the link to a fan fiction, and it didn't sound right to me. It's supposed to be about you and Molly, but it's mostly about a shooting at Bart's hospital. It's pretty dark and it doesn't end well... Molly dies."

Sherlock closed the fridge and began listening more closely as Mary basically related the short story to him.

Back in the other room, John heard his mobile ringing and he picked it up, seeing that Lestrade was calling.

"Hi Greg."

"John, are you with Sherlock? He's not answering his mobile."

"Uh, yeah he's here. He's on the phone actually. I think he's talking to Mary. What's going on?" and John noted the fact that he heard sirens in the background.

"I need you to ask Sherlock if Molly is working today. It's important." Lestrade asked with a note of concern in his voice.

"Ok, um, hold on a second... Hey, Sherlock!" he called into the kitchen.

"Just a minute John!... Anything else Mary? Anything of significance? Who is the writer?"

"It's written by Anon-author. Pretty generic. So that doesn't tell us much... I just didn't like the sound of it, it really stood out to me. It's only about a thousand words, but it's pretty bleak. Read it yourself if you have the chance."

"Sherlock! Just a quick question!" John called again to him.

"Yes John! Yes, just a second!... Right, thank you Mary. I'll be in touch soon." and he hung up, placing the phone back in his pocket and finally coming over to where John stood. "Yes, what is it?"

John held the phone out to him. "Lestrade's calling with a question about Molly. Said its important." he said with a shrug.

Sherlock's eyes widened as he looked at the phone in his friend's hand. He hesitated a moment, and swallowed before reaching out and taking it. He put it to his ear and uttered a "hello?" in a low voice.

"Sherlock, can you tell me if Molly is working today? I need to know if she could be at Bart's!"

Sherlock didn't hear any more. He didn't need to hear any more. He heard it in Lestrade's voice loud and clear. And he heard it in the sound of the emergency vehicles in the background too. And the world came crashing down around him.

He saw Molly. He saw the way she'd looked at him the last time he'd seen her, he saw the words of her text message from that morning, and how sweet and kind the offer had been. He remembered the way he'd lifted her so easily in this very room, her small body fitting so perfectly against his own. And he remembered the way it felt to hold her little hand inside his as he felt the pale skin on her wrist. And then, against his own will, he felt it... he felt her small lips pressing against his own as the flood of all the memories came pouring out of the room where he'd tried to tuck them neatly away.

Lestrade then began repeating the question and asking if Sherlock was still there. But Sherlock had dropped the phone, grabbed his coat, and was running out the door.

"Sherlock!" John yelled after him. He huffed in irritation and picked up his mobile, grabbed his own coat, and ran after him. He also got back on with Lestrade.

"Greg what's going on?"

"Where did Sherlock go?!"

"He literally dropped the phone and ran out the door. What did you say to him?" John questioned as he flew down the stairs.

"I barely said a thing! I asked if Molly was working, that's all!... John listen, there's a gunman in Bart's. The whole place is on lock down."

"Oh my God!" he murmured, as he reached the street where Sherlock was getting a cab. "We've got to go to Bart's Sherlock! There's a shooter!"

"Yes I know! I know! Get in!" Sherlock yelled and they both piled in the cab.

"Ok, we'll be there in a few minutes Greg." John assured him, and hung up. Then he spoke to Sherlock again. "What was that? How did you know what he was calling about?"

Sherlock answered at the speed of light as he looked on his mobile.

"Mary... That was Mary calling me earlier. There's a fan fiction that's just been posted. It detailed a shooting at Bart's. There's no indication of whether it was Moriarty or not, but it certainly seems sinister enough."

"Oh God... what do we do? I mean, does the story offer any sort of clues?"

"I'm reading it now, hold on!" and Sherlock's eyes quickly scanned the phone screen. A minute of two later he dropped the phone in his lap and growled in frustration. "There's nothing! It's just a description of a gunman in the hospital, Molly is shot and killed, and I don't get there till after the fact. There's nothing unusual about it except for the fact that it's sad and dark!"

"You think Moriarty could be behind this though?"

"It's quite likely. Hard to say for sure, but we already saw him send me a sort of message on that site in the form of reviews. He already knows we're watching him, along with the world of fans and social media."

John started texting Mary to fill her in on what was going on. Then he spoke again.

"Should you call her? Or text her maybe? See if she's alright?"

"No! We can't do that. What if she's trying to hide somewhere. We run the risk, although slim, that the gunman could be nearby and we'd give away her location."

John let out a heavy sigh as he ran hands over his face.

"I just have to get there John." Sherlock said rather quietly, staring out the window. "I just need to get there."

John stared at him, although he wasn't looking back. He was genuinely terrified for his friend at that moment. He knew Sherlock well enough now to understand how deeply he could care about the well-being of his friends. And how far he was willing to go to keep them safe. If he were to lose Molly now... John was afraid of what it would do to him. He jumped when Sherlock suddenly moved again and yelled at the cabbie.

"Can't you go any faster?! This is an emergency!" he bellowed.

A few minutes later, they did pull up to Bart's hospital. Or at least as close as they were able to get to it. A large area of the street was blocked off and there were countless emergency vehicles around the area. The cab barely stopped and Sherlock opened the door and jumped out. John quickly paid and then followed after him. They soon caught sight of Lestrade standing just beyond the police barrier set up to hold back the reporters and cameras.

Sherlock hopped over quickly and grabbed Lestrade immediately.

"Where is she? Is she out?"

Lestrade sighed. "No, the whole place is still locked down at the moment. They're sending teams in to sweep the whole building and try to find this guy. And they're slowly getting people out too. But it could take some time Sherlock! They have to be careful and be organized. You can't just have everyone running for the doors when you don't know where a shooter is. You're going to have to be patient!" and he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We can't just sit here! What are we supposed to do?" he demanded.

"If I get any information I promise I'll come right to you, ok?" he said, trying to be comforting. But he could see by the fire in the detective's eyes that it wasn't going to be easy keeping him at bay. Lestrade gave Sherlock one more pat on the shoulder before being pulled away by another officer.

John guided Sherlock over to wait by one of the ambulances. He reluctantly followed and leaned on the vehicle while watching all that was going on around him. He saw some officers getting into gear so that they could go into the building. He kept looking at the hospital, and thinking about how large it was. There were only a few logical places that Molly could be, and all they had to do was go there. Just go to those places, find her, and get her out.

He and John stood there silently watching what was going on for the next ten minutes. It felt like ten hours to Sherlock as he watched Lestrade like a hawk, trying to see if anything new was happening.

"I can't just stand here John. I can't stand out here when I could be doing _something _in there!" and he gestured to the building.

"There's nothing you can do Sherlock, they have to go through the building the proper way. If you go running in there, you could get people killed! Including yourself!"

"_She_ could get killed John!" he hissed in reply.

John could only look back at him silently. He knew what Sherlock was thinking. If he was right about Sherlock, and what he felt for Molly, it was the very same thing that he'd be thinking himself if it was Mary inside that building. And he knew there would be little he could do to hold the man back if much more time passed.

Suddenly Sherlock got a text alert and quickly pulled out his phone to check. He looked at the screen and John watched as his face went white.

"John... look." and he held his mobile out for him to read the text on the screen.

OH SHERLOCK, STILL SO BORING. ALWAYS ON THE SIDE OF THE ANGELS... IT WOULD BE A SHAME IF YOU WERE TO LOSE ONE OF THEM... *BANG* -JM

"My God..." John whispered, and turned back to Sherlock who looked almost like he'd just been shot himself.

Sherlock pulled the phone back in close to himself and began typing furiously.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"I'm... playing the game." he said without looking up and then hit send.

WHAT DO I NEED TO DO? TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT? -SH

A moment later, a reply came in.

IT'S SO SIMPLE SHERLOCK! IT'S ALWAYS SO SIMPLY, AND YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE IT... ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS ANSWER MY QUESTION. BYE! -JM

Sherlock frowned at the screen. "Question... what question?! He hasn't asked me any question!"

WHAT QUESTION? -SH

A minute went by. Two minutes went by as Sherlock stared at the screen.

"What's going on? This doesn't make any sense! This isn't how it works!" Sherlock hissed at his mobile screen as he sent the message again.

"He's playing with you Sherlock, who knows if he even wants you to answer anything! He might just be trying to drive you mad!"

Sherlock mouthed words to himself as he sent off multiple texts.

"What question?... Ask me anything!... Tell me what you want! Please!" Sherlock was breathing heavily and barely registered John's telling him to try and calm down. Finally he lowered his arm and stuck his mobile into his pocket again.

"Enough of this! I'm done waiting!" he growled and marched over to Lestrade. "Lestrade!"

Greg turned and came over to Sherlock and John.

"They're making their way through the hospital, it shouldn't be long now." he tried to offer some sort of encouragement.

"Not fast enough." Sherlock insisted. "You have to make them go to the lab and the morgue now!"

"Sherlock, it's not my division! I can't tell them what to do and they wouldn't listen to me if I did! I want Molly out too, but they have to do this the right way!" and Lestrade's voice began to rise in his own frustration. He didn't like waiting either, but he was firmly trapped between a rock and a hard place.

Only John was aware of how the cameras began focusing in on Sherlock and the conversation in progress. He knew it would be the wrong time to tell these men to keep their voices down.

"I told Molly, I _promised _her, that I would do everything in my power to keep her safe! And I'm standing here doing nothing!" he yelled back.

Suddenly they heard the muffled sound of a couple gunshots from somewhere inside the building.

"That's it, I'm going in there." and somehow Sherlock was then holding a gun and checking it.

"Hey! When did you take that?!" John demanded, feeling his side and realizing it was his. He needed to start keeping his gun under lock and key at his side.

"You're not going in there Sherlock! Do you hear me?!" Lestrade said in his most authoritative voice.

Sherlock leaned in closer to the Detective inspector. "If you'd like to stop me... you'll need to shoot me."

The two men were locked in a heated staring contest. And the truth was that Lestrade was a split second from telling him to go ahead in, and he'd make sure nobody tried to stop him. Not only because he knew Sherlock was deadly serious in his threat, but also because he wanted Molly out as badly as Sherlock and John did. He almost said it. But he didn't have time.

A split second after, they all heard something from directly behind Lestrade.

"Sherlock?" came the small familiar voice.

Lestrade saw Sherlock's expression twitch slightly, as if he weren't sure what he'd just heard. Lestrade didn't waste any time. He turned around, and there was Molly Hooper, standing there looking up at him with an orange blanket wrapped around her narrow shoulders. His shoulders slacked as he let out a sigh of relief and gave her arm a squeeze.

"Oh, are we glad to see you!" he breathed out, then glanced over his shoulder. "I'll uh... I'll leave you to it."

Then Lestrade stepped aside and went back over to his team. When he did, he opened the view from Sherlock to Molly. Sherlock stood there, immobile at first, staring down at the woman who stood alive and well in front of him now.

John very gingerly reached forward and retrieved the gun from Sherlock's hand that now hung at his side. It didn't take much effort since his grip had slacked considerably, and Sherlock didn't even react when it was removed. John put his gun safely back in its place and stepped aside, carefully watching. And again, he noted that the news cameras beyond the barrier were very much focused in their direction.

"Sherlock." Molly said again. She looked up at him and almost wondered if he'd registered her presence. The only indication she had was that he was looking directly at her. Other than that, he was like a marble statue. Only an occasional blink reminded her that he was real.

"I got out." she continued softly and slowly. "I heard the code about an hour ago in the morgue, and I knew we were locked down. But after a while, nobody came, and all I could think of was how you told me that the most important thing was to get away. I just figured I needed to get away... So I did. I pulled a bench over and climbed out the window in the women's lock-"

And she cut off the word in her own mouth, feeling herself freeze up now as well. Sherlock had taken a quick step forward so that he was in reach and his hand had darted out, coming to rest on the side of her face, cradling her cheek. Molly felt like she couldn't breathe at first, but then quickly realized she was much closer to hyperventilating. His thumb moved ever so slightly on the skin of her face and his other fingers moved a bit in the hair line behind her ears.

Molly realized that she must have been functioning on adrenaline alone up till then. Because something snapped when Sherlock reached out and touched her face like that. She felt her whole body let go, and everything just... slowed down. It wasn't just the delayed fear for her life, or the idea that she'd just done something rather difficult and brave. It was also the way Sherlock was looking at her. She saw all that fear in his eyes too, and all the relief. So intense that it shocked her. She'd never say that he didn't care, but the height of emotion that she saw in that moment was more than surprising. It was overwhelming.

Sherlock pressed his eyes closed then, and let out a breath that it seemed he'd been holding in for longer than was humanly possible. Molly began to feel the pressure rising in her chest and felt her eyes cloud as she tried to control her breaths that were coming in harder and harder so that it hurt. The vision of him standing there became a blur for Molly as her eyes filled to the brim and overflowed. She couldn't stop the emotions from literally pouring out then, and the tears began to shake her small body a bit as they flowed freely out. And the only thing she could do was to stand there and let it happen.

And then, as quickly as his hand had darted out a moment before, Sherlock actually stepped further forward and leaned down, wrapping both arms clear around her torso. And once he had done that, he stood straight back up, causing Molly's feet to completely leave the ground. The orange blanket fell from her shoulders and pooled on the ground. And once Molly registered what was actually happening, she instantly responded in kind by wrapping her arms around his neck. She buried her face into his neck, and that was when she felt her breathing slow again and the tears finally begin to dry.

John Watson stood there with his jaw dragging on the ground. He shook his head slowly in disbelief and had to bring his hand up and cover his mouth to contain the shock of the scene before him. Very few of the camera men were focusing on the fact that the shooter had now been found and was being led out of the building and into police custody. Most of them cared about nothing except for the two people silently clinging to each other on the other side of the barrier. He watched as the flashes of cameras filled the air around them. But despite the excitement, there was what could only be described as a respectful hush that had come over the crowd.

There stood the famous detective in his long Belstaff, holding tightly onto the little pathologist in her white lab coat. Her feet continued to dangle some inches above the ground as he held her in place. Neither of their faces were clearly visible, as they were both pressed into the other's neck. Not that it even mattered. Faces clear or not, it wasn't exactly a mystery as to what they were feeling in that moment.

It took a full minute or two for anyone to move. But finally a couple officers came over and gently encouraged Sherlock to come with them. He silently set Molly down, but kept an arm firmly and protectively around her shoulder as they walked off to Lestrade's police car and got in. John followed behind them and got in, sitting on the other side of Molly. And then they drove quickly away from the scene.

* * *

Sherlock had rarely ever experienced such an overwhelming sense of relief and happiness at the sight of Molly Hooper alive and well standing in front of him. It almost completely erased the feelings of fear and failure from only minutes before. He felt like he could breathe again. And temporarily, he wasn't afraid anymore. But that didn't last forever.

It wasn't till Molly was taken home safely to her flat, and John had gone home to Mary, and Sherlock had arrived back at Baker Street, that he even thought to look at his mobile again. And his heart sunk when he saw the unread message that had been waiting for him since about five minutes after Molly had shown up outside Bart's...

YOU SEE SHERLOCK? THAT WASN'T SO HARD WAS IT?... THANK YOU FOR ANSWERING MY QUESTION. -JM

* * *

_**I just have to say that this is one of those (many) moments in my life that I wish I was a super good artist. Because I so wish that I could draw the image I have in my head of Sherlock holding Molly in a hug with her feet not even touching the ground. Something about that just gets me... right in the feels! *sigh* I hope that all of you could picture it and enjoy it the way I could! And I hope you liked the fun I had with Moriarty this time. He challenges me! And yeah, I know that wasn't even too in depth... But I will get into the whole gunman in Bart's scenario a bit more in the next chapter. I know I sort of left it vague, but I wanted the climax of this chapter to be the reunion of Sherlolly outside the hospital. Though a chilling little Moriarty text had to close out the show hehe! Ok, well I've rambled enough. It's midnight where I am right now, so I'm off to bed! I look forward to hearing your thoughts when I wake bright and early tomorrow! Till next time! ;)**_

_**Just on more PS- I have now uploaded the completed stories of mine Winds of Change and Pleased To Meet You on the site Archive of Our Own. And I'm under the same pen name. That site allows you to download the file to your computer or mobile device. So in case any of my readers liked those stories... maybe now you'd like to take them with you anywhere! ;)**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Ok, this is going to be a long author's note, so buckle up... Lots to discuss! Firstly, I'm again thrilled at reaching milestones. This story has now officially become my most followed story! It has surpassed Winds of Change, and I never thought I'd have another story even come close to that one. And the reviews! OMG the reviews! You guys are amazing. I can't say it enough, seriously. **_

_**Now onto the subject of *drum roll please* Tumblr! Some of you may already know what I'm about to say, but here goes. So, I now have made myself a Tumblr account. And here's why! After chapter 12 was uploaded, I was told by Bucky5 that my story was "blowing up on Tumblr." So I was like, hmm I guess I'll check this out. I go on Tumblr and search this story title... And what do I find? An amazing fan art of THE HUG from the end of last chapter! (by momfert) I had a serious fangirling moment! I also saw a written post saying really wonderful things about this story. I was so excited! So I made an account. (And I'm under the same name as on here:) And since then, there's been another wonderful artist who did an equally beautiful depiction of the hug. (majesticlolipop) And then momfert also did a fabulous drawing of the momentous self defense lesson moment from chapter 10! Whew! It's been quite an entertaining last few days. So listen, please go on Tumblr, and if you search #I told you so #sherlolly you will find all the loveliness that I have mentioned. It's worth the look even if you don't have an account and you don't want to have one. Ok, I'm done with my fun Tumblr story! :D**_

_**So also, I want to warn you guys that this chapter is NOT like the previous one. I think I sort of went beyond my normal level of thrill in chapter 12. It took a lot of effort, let me tell you! My point is. don't expect me to produce such thrills all the time now haha! And yes, Moriarty is clearly back, but I tend to use him sparingly. This chapter especially is focused on the aftermath of the whole thing in chapter 12. So basically, it's a lot of thinking, processing, and talking. Hope you enjoy it anyway! Ok, I'll shut up now and let you read. I'll have another (shorter, don't worry) note at the bottom. ;)**_

* * *

Molly crashed inelegantly onto her bed. Her hair was still wet, and it was about to soak her pillow, but she was too wrecked to care. She'd taken an incredibly long soak in the tub and alternated between almost falling asleep, and aggressively thinking about the day she'd just had.

Toby jumped up and began purring and kneading the edge of the fluffy bath robe his owner was wearing. Molly absentmindedly scratched the cat's head as she stayed perched on the edge of sleep and thought... _Sherlock had hugged her._

Sherlock Holmes had hugged her. Or more like, _held her._ It was so bizarre. In a way, almost more so than the kiss at the pub. For a number of reasons. First of all, it was one hundred percent genuine. There were no ulterior motives. He was simply happy that she was alive and safe. And second, despite the fact that the kiss could easily be called more sexual, a hug like that was so... _intimate. _It was honest, and vulnerable, and warm. So it was even more surprising than that kiss. Sherlock doesn't do things like that... didn't do things like that. At least, Molly had never seen such a thing before.

He'd actually said very little afterward. They'd walked away and gotten into Lestrade's car and driven straight to her flat. Sherlock had said nothing during the entire ride. Lestrade asked her a few questions, and so did John. And it was John who actually explained that Sherlock had gotten a couple text messages from Moriarty, proving that this was indeed his handy work. This had of course been Molly's fear when she'd heard the hospital go into lock down. Sherlock continued to stay mute, and she almost asked him multiple times if he was alright. But she thought it would be a pointless question. She knew that he wasn't, and she also knew that he'd say he was fine. So Molly let him have his silence.

When they'd gotten to Molly's flat though, he seemed to come to life. He didn't really ask, more like told her to give him her keys. He opened her door and went in, immediately marching through the small flat and clearly examining all the rooms. Poor Toby had begun racing around in a panic... Sherlock checked the whole flat, probably twice over. And she saw the looks that John and Lestrade were exchanging. Finally, John spoke up, asking if she felt alright to be alone or not. She assured him that yes, she was fine.

When John had asked Molly that question, Sherlock had been meticulously checking the locks on her window. Lestrade looked at John and made a sort of nod toward the detective.

"Sherlock?" John began cautiously. "We should probably let Molly get some rest."

He stepped back and took another glance around the room with hands perched on his hips. "Yes. Right... She should be fine here."

"Yes, I'm fine." Molly echoed, and when he looked at her she'd given him a small smile of assurance.

Sherlock examined her face for a moment before giving a quick nod of acceptance and slowly making his way to the the door. But he still seemed hesitant to leave. He vacillated a couple times as the other men had already gone through the door. The relief she'd seen outside the hospital was still there, in a way. But now there was some fear again as he prepared to leave her.

"Sherlock?" she said, making him turn again. "Thanks."

He frowned slightly. "I didn't do anything Molly. You did everything."

"Well, I suppose I mean... thank you for what you were about to do." and she smiled again.

Sherlock nodded. "You're welcome."

Then he drew a breath and seemed to make the decision to leave quickly. He turned and left without another word, practically flying down the stairs after the other two men. Molly shut her door and locked it. And then she'd immediately begun shedding clothes as she made her way to the tub.

So there she lay on her bed, an hour and a half and multiple refillings of the tub later, nice and clean and refreshed... and completely thrown for a loop. It was only just getting dark, but Molly knew she wouldn't be leaving her bed again till the next day. She figured there was no point in fighting it. She deserved a nice early night. She didn't even bother getting dressed. She simply rolled over and switched her light off. Molly curled up in her bed and tried to close her eyes. She lifted her head and then laid it back down so that her cheek rested on her palm.

And her cheek resting on her own small palm felt so sickeningly inadequate. So pathetic compared to the hand that had cradled her cheek, or more accurately her entire head, some hours before. She shivered a little bit and pulled the covers up closer. Then she tossed and turned for the next twenty minutes. After a while she sat up and sighed. She looked at Toby who was staring lazily up at her.

"Don't you dare tell anyone." she whispered to the animal, and he opened his mouth very slightly in the typical fashion of a cat's silent meow.

Molly took her mobile from off the night stand. She snuggled back down into her blankets and whispered to herself as she opened up twitter, "Don't fail me now social media."

And social media didn't fail her of course. She proceeded to search the #sherlolly and got exactly what she was hoping for. There were almost infinite shots of herself and Sherlock. She felt warm again as she examined all the pictures of Sherlock as he reached out and touched her face. And she felt herself relax at the images of Sherlock holding her off the ground and firmly against him. She watched a short video clip about ten times over. And soon, she felt her eyes drooping.

Calmed and comforted by the memories of the strange and wonderful Sherlock that she'd met earlier today, Molly finally closed her eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

"The story was taken down." Mary said shaking her head and staring at her tablet as John puttered around their kitchen. "Course, I knew enough to print it yesterday... But the fact that it's gone now just shows me even more that it was suspicious."

"Yeah, I'd say there's little or no doubt that story came from Moriarty. And even if the story wasn't from him, the shooting certainly was. We know that... Thank God nobody was killed. A couple injuries. Could have been so much worse." John stopped in his tracks and set the coffee pot down. He looked at Mary.

"Mary, I've never seen him that afraid." he said seriously.

"Yeah, I know." she answered just as seriously.

"I've also never seen him that relieved... And, you know, affectionate. I mean, that was something." he said shaking his head a little.

"I know, I saw it live too. It was amazing... Scary at first, of course. But also amazing. That hug! Wow! When this is gone," she said pointing to her belly. "I think you should hug me like that."

John let out a chuckle. "Yeah... you do remember that I'm not exactly tall enough to create the same effect?"

Mary shrugged. "You can stand on a stool."

John shook his head and sighed. "Brilliant. I never thought the day would come when my romance skills would be compared to Sherlock's!"

"Why not?" she asked in mock innocence. "Maybe you could learn something."

"I do not take romance lessons from Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh! Another tee shirt!" Mary giggled.

John laughed as he came over to where Mary sat. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips as she reached her face up to meet him.

"Try to take it easy today ok? No more moving thing. Unless it's baby clothes." he whispered, hovering his face above his wife's.

"You going to Baker Street?"

"I am. I'm actually a bit worried about him. He seemed pretty lost yesterday, even after Molly was fine. It was hard to get him to leave her flat, though he'd probably never admit it."

"He'll figure it out... in his own time, and his own way. You know Sherlock. He doesn't do things like everyone else." and Mary reached up again to grab another kiss.

John smiled against her mouth before standing up again. Just then he got a call from Lestrade, which make his pulse speed up, given the events of yesterday. He put the call on speaker, feeling the instinct to include Mary in whatever was going on.

"Hi Greg. Everything ok?"

"I think so, yeah. I just wanted to pass on something to Sherlock... So, we were transferring the gunman yesterday, and he was shot. He'd dead."

"Oh God, really? Who did it?"

"We don't know. We searched all the areas around the station. All the buildings where a sniper could have been hiding out. We didn't find anything, so we've got almost nothing solid to go on. But I'd say it takes less than three guesses to know who's behind it."

"Right... Well I'll tell Sherlock. I was just about to head over there now. Thanks for the call Greg. I'm sure Sherlock will be available later. And I'll tell him to call if he's got any input."

"Thanks John. I'll be in touch too."

The men hung up and John sighed as he looked at Mary.

"Looks like Moriarty is cleaning up his tracks." she said.

"Looks like it... I'll keep you posted ok? I'll call you later." and then he gave Mary's hand a brief squeeze before turning to go.

Mary watched him leave the flat. Then she patted her belly, took a sip of tea, and went back to the tablet in her hands.

* * *

Sherlock hadn't slept at all that night. It was morning now and he was still awake. He hadn't even attempted to go to bed. Not after he saw the final text from Moriarty.

He thought about replying. Trying to say something that would fix the mess he'd made. But what exactly could he say? He knew there was nothing that he could say that would speak louder than the silent words he knew he'd uttered outside Bart's hospital. He was disappointed in himself that he hadn't seen exactly what Moriarty was trying to do. Because it _was_ simple. It was so simple, and he couldn't see it. Just like Moriarty had said. All Moriarty had wanted, was the truth. Not the tabloid articles, or the fan fiction, or the fan art. Just the truth.

_The truth_... Sherlock got up from his chair and began pacing. There had been a lot of pacing all that night. Lots of pacing, and violin playing, and thinking, and... more pacing. He walked back and forth slowly with his hands clasped behind him.

He had showered, but kept trousers and a shirt on. He told himself that he knew he wouldn't be sleeping that night, and so there was no need to change into sleep clothes. But, if he was honest, there was also the fact that he wanted to be able to rush out the door if his mobile made even the slightest peep. He kept expecting it. Even though he knew now that Moriarty's intent had never been to hurt Molly, the fear had been real. And he never wanted to feel it again.

It was that fear that was troubling him most of all. He'd felt something similar before, actually. He felt that same sort of panic when John had been trapped in a bonfire. That feeling of being willing to do just about anything to make it stop... But there was a difference. In those moments of fear, like any human being, he'd been flooded with memories. In both cases, they were memories of the things that he was terrified he'd never have again. When he thought John might burn to death, he was worried that he'd never hear the amazement in his friend's voice after he figured out a case. He was worried he'd never get those small reminders from time to time about what was and wasn't socially appropriate. And he was afraid he would never have that assurance of acceptance and support... Even when he wasn't completely socially appropriate.

Those were not the sort of things that he was really terrified to lose, when he thought he might lose Molly. Yes, there were some of those things too, of course. The unwavering friendship and loyalty. But that wasn't really what made him feel sick to his stomach in the darkest moments of the previous day... It was the memory of kissing her. It was the memory of how small she felt when he wrapped his arms around her. It was the (surprising) thrill of seeing her pupils dilate when he held eye contact with her for at least five seconds straight... It rarely took longer than that.

You don't fear losing things that you don't want in your life. Being afraid of losing those things about Molly, could logically mean only one thing...

Sherlock suddenly did a double take, and emerged from the deep thought he was in to see John sitting on the couch and turning the telly on.

"Oh... didn't realize you were here." Sherlock asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and eyeing John suspiciously.

John smiled in surprise. "Should I be insulted? You used to assume I was here all the time and be unaware of when I'd leave."

Sherlock didn't engage in the little joke. "How long have you been here?" he asked as he strolled over to the window.

"About a half hour ago. You seemed to be pretty busy. With, you know, thinking and... pacing." he said pointedly as he stared at Sherlock's back.

"Mm." Sherlock hummed.

"So, Lestrade called me... the shooter is dead. Did you already see the news?"

Sherlock barely turned around. "Not surprising. Moriarty does tend to tie up loose ends. He already got what he wanted... Now he wouldn't want anything tying him to the crime."

Sherlock then left the window and walked over to where John was watching some news about the incident from the day before. The coverage was mostly focused on the fact that the gunman was now dead, and they had no suspects. But of course they also talked about _other _things.

_"London's favorite detective Sherlock Holmes was present at the scene of the crime as well, and was noticeable distraught at the idea that Doctor Molly Hooper was still inside the hospital and unaccounted for. Let's take a look..."_

The scene switched to the footage of Sherlock loudly demanding to be let into the hospital so that he could find Molly.

_"I told Molly, I promised her that I would do everything in my power to keep her safe! And I'm standing here doing nothing!... That's it, I'm going in there."_

Sherlock stiffened at the footage on the screen. The news woman then went on.

_"It was a truly touching scene when Dr. Hooper was finally seen outside the hospital. We were given a rare look at some raw emotion from the usually serious detective."_

They went back to some video footage, and Sherlock felt like someone had just squeezed the air from his lungs when he saw his own hand come to rest on Molly's cheek. From where the camera had been, he could just barely make out the moment when Molly started to tear up... Sherlock took three quick strides over to the telly and shut it off.

He cleared his throat as he walked back over to the window. "We were both there. I hardly think this is news to us." he said quickly.

John tried to cover up his smile. "Right, sure. No need to relive it... So, how are you?"

"I'm fine."

"Anything else from Moriarty?"

Sherlock hesitated. "Just... one text."

"Really? You didn't say anything! So, what did he say?" John asked, sitting forward on the couch.

"He... he thanked me." Sherlock said quietly. Then he turned and looked at John. "He thanked me for answering his question."

John frowned in thought, then his eyes widened a bit and Sherlock saw that the wheels were turning. Just as John was about to pursue this topic further, they both turned at the sound of a knock on the door.

"It's my brother." Sherlock uttered with a sigh, as he made his way to the door. "Mycroft, hello. Come to do damage control again?"

Mycroft walked in past his brother and gave a small nod of hello to John.

"Actually I've come to make you aware of a small problem. I realize that this is not the best timing, but I regret to inform you that I no longer have the extra man power available to keep a close eye on Doctor Hooper."

Sherlock's expression changed instantly. "What?"

"Well, that is, not after tomorrow. A foreign dignitary will be arriving, and I simply cannot spare the needed security. It'll be for at least a week, perhaps two." Mycroft stated, in his typical business like way.

Sherlock looked back and forth between his brother and friend for a moment, before collecting words together.

"You- you can't do that right now Mycroft. I can't have anything but the highest security on her right now. You saw what happened yesterday! And I don't think I need to explain to you why it happened. You are the _smart _one, after all!"

Mycroft straightened up and looked slightly uncomfortable. "Yes, I realize the difficulty Sherlock. And I'm sorry. I truly am. But there's nothing I can do. I'm telling you about it so that you can perhaps make alternate arrangements."

"Alternate arrangements?!" he repeated, raising his voice. "And what would that be? My homeless network is useful for _information. _That doesn't mean they could save someone's life if need be!"

"Sherlock, we'll figure something out." John said, getting up and trying to diffuse the situation.

Sherlock turned and took a few steps around the room as he rested his hands on his hips.

"Look, I'm actually rather busy, so I'll be needing to get back to work. But I took the time to come and inform you personally. Again, I'm sorry." Mycroft said, feeling the need to leave before he had to endure any more of his brother's mood.

"Thanks for coming Mycroft." John said, knowing Sherlock wouldn't.

Mycroft nodded, and left quickly.

Sherlock sat down heavily in his chair and placed his fingers against his lips. John stood by, watching him in silence for a few moments before he spoke.

"Are you going to tell her?"

"I'll have to... though she was never really aware that she had any sort of security in the first place."

"Any... ideas?" John asked slowly. "I mean for while Mycroft's team is unavailable."

Sherlock didn't answer. He just stared straight ahead.

John actually had an idea. He was confused, in fact, that the brilliant detective was so very blown away by this problem. The solution seemed screamingly obvious. And he hesitated to bring it up for that reason. It had to be that Sherlock had already thought of this plan and dismissed it for some reason that John couldn't comprehend. But at the risk of sounding like an idiot, he figured he had to voice his thought.

"Well... why not just have her stay here for a while?"

At that, Sherlock almost literally leapt up from his chair and began walking around again.

"No. No, that wouldn't work." he said immediately, and ran a hand aggressively through his dark curls.

John stood in place, but tried his best to keep up visually with the pace of Sherlock's walking about the room.

"Well, I can't see why that-"

"It's not possibly John, that wouldn't be for the best." he quickly cut his friend off. Then he halted in his track and pointed at John with wide eyes. "You and Mary! What if Molly stayed with you and Mary?"

John frowned at him and shook his head as he began to answer. "Uh, Sherlock, you know I care about Molly and I want her to be safe... but I'd think you wouldn't want to put the three people you're closest to, all together in one flat. Wouldn't that be like a neon sign for Moriarty? Besides the fact that the only spare room we have is furnished with a crib. Not really sure Molly would fit properly in that."

Sherlock stared back at John and then his gaze shifted back and forth, almost in some embarrassment. "Right... Yes, right, of course." and then he continued pacing.

"Last I heard, my spare room upstairs is still-"

"Gabe!" Sherlock blurted out, stopping again.

"Sorry?" John asked, grimacing back at the man.

"Lestrade I mean! Lestrade! What if Molly stayed with him?"

"Are you out of your- Sherlock, Lestrade's in a one bedroom flat! I don't even think he has a couch!" John said with a note of irritation growing in his voice.

"Fine... Stamford then! What about Mike Stamford?" Sherlock offered, sounding rather desperate.

"Mike Stamford?!" John practically yelled back, staring in disbelief at Sherlock. "What is the matter with you Sherlock?! That makes no- Listen, she can't stay with Mike. Beyond all the obvious reasons why it's not appropriate, Mike's seeing someone right now. I doubt his girlfriend would appreciate that!"

"Well there's got to be someone else!" Sherlock bellowed back, waving his arms in frustration, before crashing down in his chair again.

"Why is this so complicated?!"

"Because it is!" he yelled back and got up again from his seat.

"What is it, hmm? Have you taken to storing bodies up in my old room, and you don't want to tell me?!"

"No! The room is fine, don't be ridiculous!"

"Who's being ridiculous here Sherlock?! This makes no sense! There's nobody else that she'd be safer with, and there's nobody else who understands the situation better than you, _and _you actually have a bedroom for her!"

"Yes! I know!" he answered, the decibel level still rising.

"So then what is the problem?! Why in God's name don't you want her here?!"

Sherlock finally came to a full stop, and spun around to face his friend. "Because John! I'm in love with Molly!"

The whole room and the two men in it absolutely froze. John's previous expression melted off his face and was replaced by a look of absolute shock. Sherlock stared back at him as well. Eventually, he slowly straightened up again and looked down at his feet for a moment. When he looked back up at John, the expression was unchanged. It didn't matter what John had seen and heard over the past few weeks. There wasn't much that could have prepared him for the actual words that just left Sherlock's mouth.

"Yeah uh... can we just- mm..." John cut his words off and pursed his lips as he tried to formulate an actual response. "Sorry, I wasn't really... didn't really see that one coming... strangely enough."

Sherlock nodded slowly, and took a seat again as he let out a heavy sigh. John came over and sat across from him and leaned forward, waiting for him to say something. After a few moments of silence, John spoke again.

"So... when uh, or rather, how long exactly?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Who knows? Your guess is as good as mine." he answered quietly, sounding a bit defeated.

"But I'm guessing you sort of, just realized it. Like maybe...yesterday?" John questioned.

Sherlock leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his fingertips. He didn't verbally answer the question, but went on to continue on with the topic that had been in progress before.

"I need to make sure that Molly is carefully looked after. But I'm afraid to make the situation worse by bringing her here." he said softly, having relaxed a bit.

"Ok, so bear with me... but how exactly does that make the situation worse?"

Sherlock sighed again. "Think about it John. Moriarty already knows that I..." he looked sad as he paused before continuing. "He knows. There's nothing I can do about that. No more than I could ever convince him that you aren't my best friend, or that Lestrade and I aren't friends, or that Mrs. Hudson isn't like a second mother to me... He knows conclusively now, how I feel about Molly, and I very much doubt that anything I do can change that. But... that doesn't mean that Molly has to be with me."

"So, you're telling me that you're basically trying to avoid... a relationship?"

"Exactly." he said with a nod. "It's safer if we're not _together_."

John let out a brief rueful chuckle and then looked back at Sherlock. "You're planning to keep this from her, aren't you?"

Sherlock stared back at him in silence.

John leaned back in the chair for a split second, then flew forward again to look at his friend closely. "Sherlock... she _wants _to be with you." he said firmly.

"That's what I'm fairly certain of." Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

John raised his eyebrows. "Right, so... your master plan is to keep your feelings from Molly for all eternity, in an effort to prevent a relationship from starting. Have I got that right?"

Sherlock cocked his head and lifted his eyes in thought for a second. "All of eternity may be an exaggeration..."

"You know what I mean Sherlock!... You're taking this decision from her. I know you think you're protecting her and doing the right thing, but this really shouldn't be your decision alone. She's a grown woman, and she has the right to decide whether or not she wants to be in a relationship with a brilliant git of a detective who happens to have a psychopathic criminal at his heels all the time." and John raised his palms in the air briefly, unapologetic for his argument.

Sherlock gave a half smile briefly, but then looked at John seriously again. "John, please understand. All I know is that I don't want anything to happen to Molly. And the best way I can do that right now is to avoid making anything official. Even though Moriarty knows how much Molly means to me, that doesn't mean he believes we are together. He's not stupid enough to believe everything that the internet and tabloids circulate. If he were, he wouldn't have felt the need to test me the way he did yesterday. He knows we're not together... And I'd like for it to stay that way."

John shook his head slowly as he stared back at Sherlock. Finally John let out a resigned sigh.

"Fine... Ok fine, I'll go along with it. For now!" he said pointing a warning finger at his friend. "This cannot be off the table completely Sherlock. You can't expect me to support this forever. You'll have to put up with occasional... input from me."

Sherlock nodded. "I consider myself warned." and he gave a small smile. Then he clapped his hands together and drew a breath.

"Now, back to the matter at hand... You are sadly correct John. The only logical, and safe place for Molly is right here. I'll need you in my corner, because frankly, I've never found myself in a situation quite like this. I'll need to be careful of how i conduct myself if living under the same roof with her, in order to ensure that the status of our relationship doesn't change."

He spoke as if he were looking to get directions to somewhere across town. John tried, but he couldn't stop the smile from spreading and a little bit of laughter from escaping.

Sherlock frowned. "What? John, this is serious!"

"Oh yeah, mm right." he tried to control his face and he cleared his throat. "Very serious, yes... And I will be, as you said, in your corner."

"Excellent. Thank you John." he said, beginning to look a little uncomfortable.

There was a moment of silence before Sherlock added.

"So I'll need to speak to Molly and explain the situation. I'm sure she'll be willing to take this precaution. She understands that we need to be careful."

"Right... Well let me know how that goes."

"I will."

More silence between the two men. Then John spoke up.

"Sherlock, I have just one request in this whole... crazy, ridiculous situation."

"Yes John, what's that?"

"Please, do not ask me to keep this from Mary."

Sherlock frowned back at John. "Why is that? Would you be _that_ bothered at keeping this from her?"

"Nope." John said as he shook his head. Then he smirked back at Sherlock as he added,

"It's because I'd _absolutely_ tell her anyway."

* * *

_**Well! I feel like Moriarty. "I'm SO changeable!" Normally I wouldn't have Sherlock come to terms with his feels so soon. But I felt that it fit after what he experienced in chapter 12. He could not deny it any longer. And besides, WE may all know how Sherlock feels... But Molly doesn't! Hehehe! So this should be fun. I've never written the whole dynamic of Sherlock being in love with Molly and NOT wanting her to know about it. Good times ahead! **_

_**So, once again, you're all the best followers ever! I appreciate like crazy all of the support this story has gotten. Let's keep this thing going! See you all next chapter! ;)**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**So I know I claimed that the last chapter wasn't a thriller, and then lots of you thought I was crazy because you were so sxcited about it being the big "L word" reveal by Sherlock... But this time I mean it haha! This is no thriller! Seriously. For real... You'll see that I'm right. :)**_

_**Once again, I'd like to thank everyone an infinite amount of times for the amazing reviews and the crazy amount of support for this story. And also a big thank you to the fan art that is continuing to be made! I couldn't be more excited about that. If you haven't yet, please go search "i told you so sherlolly" in the Tumblr search bar. You must see some of the amazing stuff that people have created! Thank goodness some people are talented artists! :D Ok, enjoy this chapter, and I'll see you at the bottom of the page! ;)**_

* * *

John went home soon after. Sherlock told him that he needed to get things sorted out. His first order of business was to pay a little visit to Mrs. Hudson. She needed to be aware of the probable new flat mate that Sherlock would be temporarily having.

"Mrs. Hudson." he began with a winning grin. "A small favor to ask of you."

"What is it dear?" she asked as she stepped outside her doorway to speak with him.

"I'll need to move Molly Hooper into 221B for a while. A week or two, mostly likely. I'm having a difficult time keeping her as closely watched and safe as I'd like. She'd be safest here... That's not a problem, is it?"

"No." Mrs. Hudson said with a chuckle and a shake of her head. "Just you keep in mind that my bedroom is right below yours. You may be a detective, but I happen to believe some things should remain a mystery!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Mrs. Hudson, I did in fact mean that Molly would be staying in _John's_ old room."

She giggled a little and gave him a pat on the cheek, and winked at him. "Whatever you say Sherlock!... So when would she be staying?"

"As soon as possible, I'd say. If I can get her here today after her shift, that would be ideal."

"Oh, well then, I'll freshen up John's room then. Clean linens and perhaps a bit of dusting... If you're sure she'll need the room, that is."

"Yes Mrs. Hudson." he said with a sigh, as he backed away slowly from the conversation. "I'm very _sure_ she'll be needing the room."

As Sherlock walked away and out the front door, he muttered to himself, "_I'll_ be needing her to have that room."

* * *

Sherlock got a cab to take him to Bart's, and relaxed in the back seat. He needed the time to think a bit. Lots had just happened, and he still didn't feel it had been properly sorted. He'd barely got through cataloguing the events with Molly up till yesterday. And then it was like someone had taken all the Molly files in his head and tipped them over, jumbling them all again. Not to say that all of it was unpleasant...

Had he hated the natural chemical high of clutching her body against his own? Not... in the least.

But he was trying not to allow his mind to wander down that path. He'd admitted he was in love with Molly, yes. But he was trying to view it in an almost scientific way. It was simply a... fact. A fact that couldn't be denied any longer. But that didn't mean that anything had to be different. When he scanned the recent memories of time spent with Molly, the only times when his mental faculties were compromised was when she was in possible danger, or when she was physically very close to him. So he figured that if he avoided those two things, it should be rather easy to keep things from getting out of hand.

Granted, this would be a bit more of a challenge if she was living in the same flat with him, but still. He felt very sure that he could manage to keep her at arm's length... Literally. Molly wasn't pushy or clingy, and so that helped. She did tend to follow his lead most of the time. If he didn't make it a point to get cozy with her while at Baker Street, he felt sure that she would play right along.

He didn't allow himself to think about the future. Not the week or two after she'd left his flat, or the next month, or the next year. Not even, _what if Moriarty was gone_? Well... perhaps that thought did cross his mind. But the Molly related questions that thought led to, were something he wouldn't ponder over. He didn't know what he wanted, not really. He only knew two things. He loved Molly, and he wanted her safe.

As the cab came to a halt outside of Bart's, he reminded himself of the importance to keep any softer emotions to himself. He wasn't absolutely certain that Molly was still in love with him. But it seemed clear that there still existed a strong attraction. And he was certain that if he were to let his feelings show, Molly would more than meet him halfway. It seemed that the key to stopping any progress between them, was to make her continue to believe that he viewed her as nothing more than a friend. It he accomplished that effectively enough, he thought there was even a solid possibility that she'd move on one day (in a healthy way this time) and end up with someone else, possibly removing the figurative target on her back.

As he entered Bart's, he tried to ignore the dull pain that radiated through his chest as he imagined Molly _truly_ moving on.

He guessed, correctly, that she'd be in the lab writing reports right about now. Chances were good that the gunman's body had to be dealt with in the morgue today. Unlikely that they would give her that job.

Sherlock saw the shiny brown pony tail and the back of her lab coat as he stood at the door of the lab. She was busily looking at notations and transferring them to the report on the computer. He took a deep breath, and walked in, making her turn instantly.

"Oh, hi." she said with a smile.

"Morning Molly. Everything... alright today?"

She shrugged. "No shootings today, so that's a big improvement."

Sherlock smiled briefly.

"What about you? Anything more on Moriarty?" she asked.

Sherlock was not going to detail the entire exchange with the consulting criminal.

"Not since yesterday. He made his involvement clear enough. There hasn't been anything else since then. I'd like to think he's done with us now, but..."

"He might not be?"

Sherlock nodded. "Actually, that's why I'd come to see you today. There's been a... development. And it seems that you're going to be at a slightly greater risk for a while."

Molly stopped what she was doing and stood up straighter as she frowned slightly. "What, you mean... other than what happened yesterday?"

"The events of yesterday would make this a greater concern. But yes, it's something you're not aware of yet."

"I'm listening." she said softly.

Sherlock strolled over to lean his palms against the other side of the table from her. "I must start by confessing that I've had a rather high level of government surveillance on you for the past few weeks."

There was a moment of silence as she stared at him, then slowly opened her mouth.

"Government surveillance?"

"Yes. Well, I suppose I didn't do it myself. But it was at my request... My brother's connections can be useful on occasion." and he gave another small smile.

"W-when did you do that?"

"It was right after I felt certain of Moriarty's interest in our _relationship status_. After the night I broke into you window... I mean the most recent time." he clarified, realizing that there were countless times in their history that he'd taken such a liberty.

"Oh." she said very quietly. And for a second, Sherlock was afraid she found this insulting or intrusive. But then... "That was... very sweet of you Sherlock. Thanks."

Sherlock cleared his throat and broke eye contact for a moment, just to clear his head.

"It's, nothing. You're welcome... But anyway, the point is that the surveillance is going to be temporarily unavailable, starting tomorrow."

"Oh. So, what do we do?"

"Well, that brings me to why I'm really here. I have a suggestion... I think that it would make sense for you to stay at Baker Street."

Sherlock realized that his palms were becoming sweaty, and his pulse had massively accelerated. This was a terribly uncomfortable sensation. There was no reason for nerves like this. This was the proposition of a safety precaution, nothing more. But it didn't help that Molly's cheeks colored slightly, almost right away.

"Stay at Baker Street? With you?" she questioned, eyeing him in confusion.

"Well, yes. Only for a week or two. There's a visiting foreign dignitary, and that's tying up all my brother's available security. Once this visitor is gone, I'm sure my brother will be willing to assist us again."

Molly looked at her hands on the table for a moment.

"I do have a spare bedroom of course." he added. Molly didn't directly respond to that statement.

"So, you do think that the shooter yesterday was... about me?"

Sherlock didn't want to scare her, or give away too much of what Moriarty had deduced about him. But at the same time, he knew that without this piece of information, Molly may not understand the seriousness of the situation.

"I- I don't think, Molly. I _know_ it was about you. Moriarty himself made it more than clear to me. I don't know that he intended for any harm to come to you yesterday, but I do know he's willing to take things pretty far in order to... get to me. And it makes me question what he'd do next."

Molly considered this. She didn't want her life to be in danger, of course. But that didn't mean she had no concerns.

"But, what about the _danger_ of my living with you? Won't that make people think we're... you know." she offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, it may raise suspicion among the media and public. But my concern doesn't lie primarily with them. Your being with me might make you a target for tabloid gossip, but not a target for physical harm. Moriarty, on the other hand, isn't so harmless."

"But what would he think of me living with you?"

"Moriarty is clever. He's like me. He doesn't take things at face value. He knows that you're my friend now, and that I care for your safety. So while the city in general may believe that I've moved you into Baker Street as my girlfriend, Moriarty would undoubtedly understand that I'm doing it to protect you. Believe me, he does his research."

Molly paused again. She was afraid of Moriarty. She'd never even try to deny that. She felt safer the closer she was to Sherlock. And she'd never bother to deny that either. Knowing what Sherlock had just shared with her, there was no point in denying the fact that she'd feel safest for the time being, if she was as close to Sherlock Holmes as possible.

"Um, ok. I think that's a... good idea then. Me staying with you." she said with a small nod of approval.

Sherlock had the sudden urge to smile rather widely, but he controlled it.

"Good... Right, so you are done with your shift at five today, correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"So I suppose I'll expect you at Baker Street this evening then." and he took a step back from the table, looking like he was ready to make an exit.

"Oh, wait, Sherlock. Um, there's one more thing... I can bring Toby right?" she asked nervously.

Sherlock hesitated since he hadn't thought about that, not that it was such a big problem.

"I suppose that would be fine. Yes, you can bring him."

"Oh good, thanks." she said breathing a sigh of relief. "Ok, I'll see you later then."

"Right." and Sherlock gave her a small smile.

_Don't linger_ he reminded himself. So he turned and left the lab then with quick strides.

Molly was left standing there frozen in place. She finally lifted her arm and took a look at the watch on her wrist. It was close to eleven in the morning. So that was a countdown of about six hours, she thought, with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Six hours till she had to go home, and pack up for her stay at 221B Baker Street.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, there were no tabloid reporters on Baker Street when Molly's cab came to a stop. She struggled with the couple of bags that she had, and then the cat carrier as well. The cabbie waited till she'd gotten all items out and up to the front door. She used the knocker, and didn't have to wait long before Mrs. Hudson opened the door.

"Oh Molly, how lovely!" she said grinning. "Come in dear. I'll just get Sherlock to help you with all this."

"Oh, thanks Mrs. Hudson." Molly said somewhat shyly as she pulled the bags past the entry so the door could be closed. She bent down to stick her fingers through the holes in the cat carrier and speak consolingly to poor Toby who was bitterly complaining about the confinement and the cab ride.

Sherlock came quickly down the steps, looking discouragingly attractive in his trousers and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He paused and frowned down at the cat carrier.

"What's the matter with him?" he questioned at the sound of the yowling.

"He absolutely hates this thing! It terrifies him. Well, so does riding in any sort of vehicle. He'll be a wreck for a few hours at least." she said sympathetically.

"Hm, cats." Sherlock huffed in disdain. Red Beard had loved going anywhere, as long as he was with his master. Then he turned his attention to the bags and picked up the two suitcases. "I'll take these if you can manage with Toby."

"Yes, that's fine. Thanks." and Molly followed Sherlock up the stairs. He passed the main door to his flat and kept going around the corner and up the next set of stairs.

"I was surprised at no reporters outside." Molly commented as they got to the door of John's old room.

"Yes, well Wiggins assisted me in making sure your arrival wouldn't be too bothersome. If you have enough people helping, you can easily restrict access to a section of street." he said proudly. "I can't imagine nobody will notice your staying here in the next week or so, but at least you didn't have to fight with cameras while carting bags and a cat from a cab."

"Yes, I'm glad of that!"

Sherlock opened the door and went in to set her two bags down. Molly looked around and felt a little more at ease. The room was small, but it was light and cozy. The little twin bed had been freshly made, it seemed. And there was a small desk and chair near the window. She smiled at Sherlock.

"This is nice."

"Yes, I suppose so. John never complained. I never really came up here much." he said glancing around.

"Oh, is that why there's no body parts and chemicals?" she smiled teasingly.

"Most likely." he shrugged with a half smile.

Toby continued to protest loudly.

"Oh, Toby, it's alright little man. Do you want to come out? Sherlock, can you shut the door so I can let him out?"

"Oh, um, I'll just go downstairs actually. You get... settled." he said making his way out of the room. "You can come down whenever you'd like, of course, and make yourself comfortable."

"Ok thanks." she smiled. "I'll be down in a bit then."

Sherlock nodded before exiting the room and shutting the door. As he descended the stairs, he got a text message. He saw that is was from Mary. He rolled his eyes before he even opened it.

HI SHERLOCK... HOW'S YOUR DAY GOING? -MW

He chuckled to himself. Clearly she'd spoken to John already. If that wasn't the most obvious fishing for information text, in the history of texts... And he felt like making her suffer a bit.

I'M FINE... HOW'S YOUR DAY GOING MRS. WATSON? -SH

I THINK IT'S DIFFICULT FOR ME TO DO MY JOB IF I'M NOT BEING PROPERLY, AND FREQUENTLY, INFORMED. -MW

WHAT EXACTLY WOULD YOU LIKE INFORMATION ABOUT? -SH

Sherlock smiled smugly to himself as he took a seat in his chair and leaned back, relaxing.

SHERLOCK! -MW

IS THE DOCTOR'S WIFE BORED AGAIN? -SH

DO NOT MAKE ME WADDLE OVER THERE... -MW

Sherlock sighed to himself. May as well give her just a sliver of entertainment.

MOLLY IS HERE. SHE BROUGHT HER THINGS OVER AFTER HER SHIFT TODAY... HAPPY? -SH

ARE YOU? ;) -MW

DON'T PUSH IT... GOOD NIGHT MARY. -SH

Sherlock could practically hear her groan of frustration from across town, and he couldn't help but find it amusing. He stopped in his thoughts for a moment though, and glanced up at the ceiling as he heard the footsteps above.

It was strange to hear footsteps in that upstairs bedroom again. And they were different of course. Lighter and quieter. It felt nice, having someone right nearby again. It was something he hadn't allowed himself to miss much. But now... he couldn't help but wish it would stay like this. And he wondered what it would be like to live with Molly Hooper. He knew her so well. But it was still hard to imagine what it would be like to come back to his flat and see her sitting on the couch, or making tea in the kitchen, or getting ready for work in the morning... and he realized that he wanted to see those things.

He sighed at himself in frustration. Another ridiculous part of love, he supposed. Boring daily tasks became suddenly appealing, if they were being done by _that_ person. He actually wondered though, how he hadn't realized that he was in love with Molly before this point. Or, had he been in love with her before this? That was something he still hadn't worked out yet. When had this whole thing started? He had to admit to himself that there was the possibility of his having feelings for her long before he'd ever planted that infamous kiss on her little lips...

"Hi. Sorry, were you busy?" Molly's small voice interrupted his thought process as she poked her head in the doorway.

Sherlock jumped to sit up straighter and cleared his throat. "No, no problem. Not busy. You don't need to tip toe around here Molly. You're staying here for now, so you can act like this is your home. God knows I've taken plenty of liberties with your flat over the years."

She laughed as she entered the room. "I suppose so. Does that mean I get to kick you out of your own room?"

"I'd like to see you try." he said raising an eyebrow. Then he frowned at himself inwardly. _Was that inadvertent flirting? Not helpful..._

Molly didn't seem to notice though, and she began to wander into the kitchen. "So, what if I make some tea? And I could make some food too, if you like. I feel like I owe you something if I'll be staying here."

"Don't be silly, it's fine. You don't need to do anything like that... Besides, I'm fairly certain I don't have anything in that kitchen right now that you could turn into a meal for a human being."

Molly opened the fridge, and was silent for a moment. Then she closed it again. "Um, yes, it appears that you're right... Well, what do you normally eat?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Sometimes dinner just... happens. But when it doesn't, I'll just order take away."

"Happens?" Molly frowned in question.

"Well, I can only deduce that it is made by Mrs. Hudson, but I don't suppose I have concrete evidence." and he gave a small sarcastic smile.

"Well, maybe I'll make a few meals while I'm here. After I get actually food to cook with, that is. I suppose tonight I'm not all that hungry anyway."

"Neither am I."

There was a moment of silence between the two.

"But I could still make the tea." she jumped to offer.

"Yes, that would be fine." he said with a nod.

There were a few minutes of quiet as Molly puttered around the kitchen, getting the kettle going and getting the tea and cups. As she did, she saw the stack of a few newspapers on the edge of the table. She slid one around to glance at it. _Good God_ she thought. The picture of Sherlock holding her up in a hug was on the front cover! It was along with the article about the hospital shooter, but still. It was pretty unbelievable... And to think, yesterday morning she'd felt a bit slighted when he wouldn't come in and observe autopsies just for fun.

She was lost in thought when the kettle started to whine. Molly got the tea ready and came over a minute later to sit down with her own cup, and hand Sherlock's to him.

"Thank you." he said quietly.

"So, what sort of food do you like?" Molly asked after taking a sip of her tea. "I don't really know, other than the places you like for take away. Most of the years I've known you, I see you when you're working. And that's not when you normally eat."

"I like... most foods." he said hesitantly. "I'm not sure what to suggest in particular though."

"Oh! I have an idea! We should look at my Pinterest recipes. I never use them even though I pin about a million. You can look at what I saved and tell me if anything looks good." she said as she took out her mobile and began navigating around.

"What is this _Pinterest_? It seems like another black hole of wasted time, along with the world of Tumblr and Twitter." he scoffed.

"Well, maybe it is a bit like that... but it's also so useful! It's so much neater than having a bunch of cookbooks or pictures around. Here," she said, handing her mobile to him. "That's my recipe board. You can look through."

He took the phone and began scrolling through, but maintained a look of slight disdain...

A few minutes later though, he'd become much more animated in his searching.

"Molly, every recipe I look at has at least a couple dozen similar recipes below it. Are these things you have saved as well?"

She came over and crouched down beside his chair to look at her phone in his hands.

"Oh, no, those are just related pins. But if you see something you like, you could always save it on my board. Here, like this..." and she held her finger on a picture of a lovely looking shepherd's pie, then slid it to the pin icon. "Then you can just put it in my board here that says recipes. See? Easy."

"Mm." he hummed as he continued to examine the screen while Molly got back up to sit in John's old chair again.

He supposed this was somewhat entertaining. Understandable why people used this as a means for organizing internet finds... he touched a pin of the top ten pub foods and how to easily make them at home. He pinned it to Molly's recipe board. Then he casually scrolled down into the related pins.

He froze as he came across the large printed meme "Keep Calm and Scarf Toss Pub Kiss." Possibly he should have stayed away from the _pub_ food recipes... But he kept scrolling slowly down. His eyes widened slightly as he stopped at a skillfully done sketch of himself and Molly, locked in their infamous kiss. He glanced up nervously, but saw that Molly wasn't watching him closely. He quickly went back a couple pages. Best to avoid those type of pins...

"So... Aren't there any house rules I should know about?" she asked, bringing him back to reality.

"Rules?"

"Yes. Like, when you usually need the shower, or where I should be when a client is here, or when you need to be left alone, or times you need quiet and I shouldn't have the telly on... Things like that."

Sherlock watched her cradle her tea cup as she lifted her legs to tuck them up next to her on the chair. And then she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her lip slightly as she watched him intently, waiting for his answer. He couldn't help thinking to himself, that the only rule she really needed to follow was one that he couldn't exactly say out loud. _Molly, would you please refrain from being the least bit attractive for the next two weeks? It would help me a great deal if I weren't inclined to blatant physical displays of affection every time you look at me... please and thank you_.

"I... can't think of any rules off hand." he said hesitantly and he gave her a tight smile, hoping that his cheeks didn't look at all red... because they felt suspisciously warm.

"Oh. Well, alright. I suppose you can let me know if you think of anything." she smiled. Then she suddenly blew out a heavy breath and set her tea down on the side table. "Is it warm in here?"

She then stood up to remove her jumper before sitting back down, then in her tee shirt. She picked up her tea again and looked at it. "Perhaps it's a bit too warm for drinking tea tonight. I should just have some water. It's not as if I can take anything else off!" and she let out a typical little Molly giggle, in reaction to her own joke.

Sherlock pressed his lips tightly together as he tried to look anywhere in the room except at her... It occurred to him that this would not be as easy as he'd originally hoped.

* * *

**_I felt it was Pinterest's turn for some love haha! I'm a big Pinterest girl myself, and that's one thing I think I hadn't mentioned yet in my story. And many of us know what a gold mine it is for Sherlock and Sherlolly stuff! So it only made sense to bring it into the mix of fun. :) _****_So, as I said, this wasn't a hugely eventful chapter. Hopefully I can make this little period of Sherlolly being flat mates interesting, and also original enough. If anyone happens to have any big ideas (PG-13 and under you wild and crazy Sherlolly shippers! ;P) do feel free to send me a PM, or a message in Tumblr for my consideration... See you next chapter! ;)_**


	15. Chapter 15

_**Hi guys! I'm a very excited writer once again. I've reached 400 followers! Yippy! Thanks a million over and over again! :D**_

_**So I have a small announcement to make... Most of you know that I've been very strict in my policy of responding to every reviewer for my stories. I have always thought it's important, because I genuinely do care about my readers and their thoughts. BUT... I think I need to simplify. I've been getting a lot of reviews on a number of my stories, in addition to private messages, and also messages and posts on Tumblr now. I'm genuinely getting confused sometimes lol! So I have a new policy. In general, I'll just respond to reviews in which there's a question asked, or something that the reader wants to discuss. And please PLEASE don't hesitate to private message me on here! I will ALWAYS respond to those. And please don't hesitate to contact me on Tumblr also. **__**That having been said, I do not want to sound like an ungrateful jerk. Please know that I absolutely love all the reviews and messages I get! I LOVE reading them, and they can be very helpful too. So don't hesitate to review! I am so happy about all the support and attention this story has gotten, and I don't want any of you to forget that. EVER! :) ... I will now shut up and let you read. It's time for a little Sherlolly crime solving this time! ;)**_

* * *

Molly came up the stairs after work two days later to the sound of Sherlock's violin. She pulled the few grocery bags along with her, and stumbled into the flat with some difficulty. Sherlock didn't turn or acknowledge her as she came in, but continued walking around and playing. She dropped her work tote, then made her way to the kitchen with the groceries. It was a few minutes later, as she was putting away some of the items, that Sherlock finally said something.

"Oh, Molly, I didn't realize you were back."

"Just a few minutes ago... I got some food. Real food. Enough for a few days at least, thankfully. I'd rather not have to carry anything extra for a while. I did not have such an easy time getting in the flat today." she said bitterly.

Sherlock walked over and pulled the curtain back to peer out the window. "Mm, yes they've certainly made the discovery." he said as he looked down at the few reporters that had become a fixture on the street today.

"Didn't take too long did it? I mean, what are they expecting to see outside the doorstep anyway? It's not as if they can get any pictures inside the flat."

Sherlock sighed as he sauntered over into the kitchen. "Who knows? They're probably just bored." he said as he inspected some of the food that was in the process of being put away. He reached into a small carton that held some cherry tomatoes and popped on into his mouth.

Molly smiled. "I was actually going to cook with those."

"Why would you cook tonight?" then after he swallowed the tomato, he added. "Working."

She raised looked surprised. "Oh, are you? I didn't realize."

"I thought you knew."

She frowned at him, then laughed a little. "How would I know that Sherlock? I've been at the hospital since this morning."

"Oh... right."

Shook her head and smiled. So this was the sort of thing John would complain about. "Well, it's alright. I can always make something tomorrow. I'll just make myself some toast for tonight... Why are you working so late?"

"It seems a night security guard may be breaking into some luxury flats, so this would be the very best time to catch him."

"Oh, I see... Well, would you like me to at least make some coffee before you go? When are you leaving?"

Sherlock looked at her in an expression of wonder. He didn't remember this sort of thing happening when John was his flat mate... Do flat mates usually offer to do all these things for each other?

"I- I'm not completely sure. Perhaps an hour or so." and he was looking almost suspiciously at her.

"Alright. Well, just let me know when you're leaving and I'll get some coffee going." she said brightly, and then began putting the last few things away in the kitchen.

Sherlock turned slowly and went back toward the window. His eyes were wide and they darted back and forth as his thoughts whirled around in his head. It had only been a couple days, and this was not what he was expecting...

It was incredibly enjoyable.

It wasn't as if he anticipated that he'd _dislike_ having her live with him. But he certainly didn't imagine that he'd be so happy with the arrangement, so very quickly.

He covertly turned a bit to see her continuing to work around things in the kitchen... Around things. She hadn't disturbed or ruined a single thing on that kitchen table in the past two days, but somehow things looked cleaner. And she'd been using the kitchen quite freely. It was remarkable. Yesterday, she'd somehow manages to organize his bottles of chemicals and solvents all while getting some dishes done. He was still confused about how the two things had taken place within the same half hour. And then she'd proceeded to somehow make the bathroom look better as well. He hadn't even worked out _exactly_ what she'd done in there. But when she'd left the bathroom after taking a shower, it looked better... Not to mention smelling fantastic.

It was as if she was a frighteningly delightful combination of John's companionship and presence, and Mrs. Hudson's ability to keep the place functional and livable. And then there were things she brought to the table that nobody else did of course... seeing as he'd also very much much like to pin her against the nearest wall and snog her till they'd both forgotten the entirety of the periodic table...

Sherlock gave his head a small shake. _Stop it. Not the right train of thought_. This whole thing was incredibly inconvenient and distracting... no matter how enjoyable it was.

His thought was disturbed by the sound of his mobile ringing, and picked up the call that was coming from John.

"Yes John?"

"Hey, Sherlock, I hate to do this but Mary isn't feeling well. I don't really think I should go anywhere tonight. It would probably be better it I'm here, just in case."

Sherlock let his head fall in frustration. "John, I need your assistance!"

"If Mary went into labor, she'd need my assistance _more_! I'd think you can wrap your head around that."

Sherlock sighed loudly. "Fine... I'll manage somehow I suppose."

"It's really better if you get used to this anyway. I'm not going to be available as often for a while after the baby comes... Why don't you bring Molly?" John added.

Sherlock instinctively turned away from where Molly was in the kitchen and lowered his voice. "Absolutely not. That would be unwise."

"You took her on cases before."

"Yes John... _before_. I think it would be incredible counterproductive now."

"So... what you're saying is that you probably won't be able to keep your hands off her if you're solving crimes together." John replied in a tone of satisfaction.

"Conversation over, Goodbye!" Sherlock quickly spat out and hung up.

Sherlock didn't turn back around for a moment, unsure of whether Molly was still there. Though he knew she wouldn't be able to discern too much from his side of the conversation.

"What was that all about?" she questioned, confirming her continued presence in the kitchen.

Sherlock turned and said casually. "John won't be joining me this evening, that's all."

"Oh. Is Mary ok?"

"He said she isn't feeling well."

"Well, it's best he stay with her. The baby could be on her way soon."

Sherlock sat down at his computer and looked at the screen with a slight pout. Molly watched him and could tell that he was clearly upset at losing John for the night. He loved and cared for the Watsons, but that didn't change the fact that he could still be the selfish Sherlock that they all knew. And right now, he just wanted his crime solving partner.

Molly approached his desk a little. "Do you need help?" she asked slowly.

"With what?" he responded without looking away from the screen.

"I mean, with the case. I could help if you'd like. I could come with you."

Then he whirled to look at her, with what looked like mild fear. "I, uh... That's hardly necessary."

"Why not?" Molly took a couple more steps closer. "I'm sure you'd like someone with you. Is it especially dangerous?"

"It's um, just gathering evidence really. I've got to get some pictures, hopefully catching this man in the act. And once I produce the evidence, his employer will be able to take action. So I'm sure I'll be able to... manage."

"Well, I would also... like to come." she said softly, and smiled at him.

He couldn't help looking up into those eyes of hers. The hopeful look made him wince inwardly. Molly wanted to help, and if he wasn't mistaken, she also simply wanted to be with him. He knew he wasn't going to be able to say no.

"Alright then, thank you." he replied quietly.

Molly beamed back at him. "Great. Well, I'll be ready in a bit. Just have to feed Toby and clean out his litter box before we go. I'm not sure where he is actually. Have you seen him? I think he came down here today."

"He did indeed." Sherlock said with a sigh. "If I am not mistaken, he has taken to hiding under my bed. Been there most of the day I believe. I tried to coax him out when I needed to get dressed, but he refused."

"Oh, the poor little love, he probably can't relax anywhere in here. He's never lived anywhere except at my flat."

Sherlock shook his head in annoyance. He felt no sympathy for the animal. He just hoped that Toby would be willing to vacate his bedroom by the time they got back from solving this case.

Molly went off to her room upstairs and Sherlock began planning the night's activities. He reasoned that Molly's presence could genuinely be useful on the case. And he felt she'd possibly even be safer out crime solving with him, as opposed to staying at Baker Street alone... So it was probably all a win win situation.

* * *

About an hour later Sherlock and Molly had both had a cup of coffee in the flat, and were prepared to head out. It was thankfully rather empty on the streets, so they wouldn't be bothered by anybody at this time of night as they got a cab.

"It's about ten minutes away, won't take us long. This may be tedious. We may end up waiting for an extended period of time." Sherlock said as he folded his gloved hands on his lap.

"And what exactly are we going to be waiting for?"

"We would hopefully be waiting for the security guard to demonstrate his skills of burglary while we look on. The owner of the building said that quite often, tenants complain that something has gone missing while they were out. The owner made the connection that it's always when this particular watchman is on duty. It's a Saturday night, and it's likely that many of the building's residence will be leaving. So it would be a likely time to catch the thief red handed."

"And we are just taking photographs right?" Molly checked.

"Just photographs, yes. I won't be chasing anybody down tonight. Though if you're feeling ambitious..." he said with a sideways smirk.

She smiled back. "I think not. I'll hopefully save those self defense lessons for another time... How are we getting into this building anyway? I mean, won't we have to get past the man at the front desk? He knows who lives there doesn't he?"

"You are correct. As a matter of fact, we are not entering the building from the front. We are going to go in through an open window of one of the flats."

Molly frowned. "And you are sure that the window is going to be unlocked?"

"Oh, I'm sure of it. In fact, we were invited. You see, the owner of the building informed me that one of the flats on the second floor is presently unoccupied. The new tenants won't be moving in for another week. So, he left the window open for me tonight and told me I could then have free reign of the building." He smiled at Molly with a typical _haven't I thought of everything_ expression.

"Well alright, I suppose. Though I'm getting rather tired of going in and out of windows these days... You seem awfully comfortable using windows, don't you?" she said with a laugh.

"I'm no amateur." he answered with another playful smile.

Sherlock had the cabbie pull around to the back, and once they got out, they were left standing there in the dark and staring up at the five story building. Molly looked nervously at the fire escape ladder.

"I hope I won't slow you down." she said nervously.

"No chasing anyone down, remember? Not exactly a rush. Besides, I'll help." Sherlock jumped up to pull the ladder down. He looked up and realized that the safest plan was for Molly to go first. This could certainly be awkward... in a pleasant sort of way.

Molly came over and grasped onto the highest part of the ladder that she could manage, and without being asked, Sherlock leaned down and encircled her hips to lift her up. Molly gave a little squeak, as she wasn't expecting this, but she tried to remain professional and composed. She reminded herself that she'd volunteered to come help him on this case, and she promised herself not to become a giggly blushing idiot in the process.

Molly got up enough to begin climbing unassisted, and then Sherlock followed after her. Molly was glad that they only had to make it up to the second floor. She didn't exactly call herself athletic, and she figured that falling to the pavement below would put a massive damper on the whole crime solving experience.

They finally got to the window, and thankfully it was the right one. Sherlock gave Molly a look, pushed on the window, then smiled back at her in satisfaction when it worked. Sherlock climbed through first and helped Molly a bit as she reached the floor. He had grasped her hand for support as she jumped down on her feet, and he briefly had the thought that it may have been the first time he'd ever held her hand like that...

But, back to the case.

"There's a balcony on the second floor that overlooks the entryway. Our suspect should be manning his post at the desk. I want to wait and see what happens if someone leaves for the night. Come on."

They left the dark, sparsely furnished flat, and left the door unlocked for them to easily get back inside when it was time to leave. Sherlock led the way to where the balcony was, and they positioned themselves on the ground behind a couple of large pillars. They could see the man sitting at his desk down below them. And now they just had to wait.

Molly and Sherlock were crammed next to each other, so that neither of them would be visible from the ground floor. He was having a hard time breathing steadily and focusing on watching the desk below them. But he was also trying very hard not to turn and look right at her. Because at that distance, if he did, his nose might actually touch hers.

"How long do you think this will take?" Molly whispered near his ear, and he was suddenly afraid he might spontaneously combust.

"Er... I- I'm sure. Not too terribly long," he whispered back, but kept his eyes facing forward.

Then he realized, in his peripheral, that Molly was leaning over closer to his head. He frowned slightly when he heard her make a quiet sniffing noise.

"Sherlock... did you use my shampoo?" she whispered, now clearly trying not to giggle.

Sherlock tried to maintain a straight face. "It was... experimental. The bottle made a lot of inflated claims and promises about the sort of effect it would have on hair. I was simply... attempting to prove or disprove those claims."

She was continuing to stifle laughter, but managed to get out. "And the results?"

Sherlock was beginning to have a difficult time staying serious as well. "I... fail to notice any extra bounce, body, or shine. And, on that note, I suspect that no shampoo could truly have an effect on how my hair _bounces_," and he made a sarcastic expression, causing Molly to have to cover her mouth completely to hold in any noise.

Molly took a moment to fully compose herself before attempting to say anything else. "Well, if nothing else, it does smell quite lovely," then she took another little sniff before having to cover her mouth and stop the laughter again.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile at Molly desperately trying to contain her amusement at his little shampoo experiment. Though, the "experiment" had really started because he was opening all her products in the shower to try and determine exactly which one was so incredibly appealing to him. He then started to turn, against his better judgment, and he was right that her face would be so very close to his own...

"Sherlock, look!" she whispered, nodding to the ground floor.

They saw a couple leaving, and the man at the desk said hello. They informed him they'd be out for the night, and he told them to have an enjoyable evening. Sherlock and Molly looked at each other briefly, then watched the man again. It took a bit longer for anything to happen, but a few minutes after the couple had left and driven away in a cab, the man at the desk got up and left his post. Sherlock jumped up, and Molly followed, when he heard the man get in the elevator. He listened closely and heard it slow as it came to the second floor.

Sherlock grabbed Molly's hand and pulled her along around the corner just as the elevator door opened. He placed a finger to his lips, listening for where the man was headed. He heard the footsteps go down the hall around the corner. Once he'd waited long enough, he peered around the corner to see the man stopping at a door near the end of the hall. Sherlock took out his mobile which he's silenced earlier, and took a few shots as the man swiped a key card and entered.

"Now we wait and see if we can get any pictures of him leaving with anything." and Sherlock leaned against the wall.

"What if he sees us?" Molly whispered.

Sherlock shrugged. "The empty flat is right there." and he gestured a few doors down. "We can get away rather easily."

A few minutes later, they heard noises and Sherlock poked his head around the corner again. The man was coming out carrying a small bag in his hands, and Sherlock got a few shots of that as well.

Sherlock mouthed the words "got it, let's go" and they took a few steps toward the empty flat's door. Just as they were opening the door, they heard the man's voice. "Who's there?" he called from down the hall.

Molly shot Sherlock a horrified look and they quickly opened and got in through the door. Sherlock locked it behind them with one hand, and with the other finished emailing the pictures to the client. He then turned to Molly with a pleased smile.

"There. Case closed."

Just as they were about to walk toward the window, they heard the door being jostled. Sherlock and Molly froze and looked at each with wide eyes. Molly made a move to sprint toward the window, but Sherlock grabbed her.

"No time, he's got a key. Quickly!" With that he threw off his scarf and coat, letting them fall to the floor.

"Hey!" Molly hissed in a whisper as he pulled her scarf from off her neck, throwing that on the floor as well.

"Sorry Molly!" he whispered like lightening. Then he practically threw her onto the nearby couch before climbing on top of her and burying his face into the curve of her neck... right as the man had unlocked and opened the door.

Sherlock's head then shot up as he took heavy breaths. "Oh, excuse us! I thought I locked the door!" He looked down at Molly's beet red face, gaping mouth, and wide eyes staring up at him. "Darling, didn't I lock the door?"

Molly realized by now that she was supposed to be playing along, but she was too distracted by a whole lot of other things to form a complete sentence. "I, uh, well..."

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" the man asked gruffly, taking a few steps closer.

Sherlock then climbed off Molly and took her hands, pulling her to a standing position too.

"So sorry to have bothered you. I really thought I locked the door."

"Yeah, well I can get into any of these doors... Hey, you're Sherlock Holmes! And you're that Doctor!"

Sherlock quickly cut in as he wrapped his arm around Molly's shoulder, pulling her in close. "Yes, we are. I'm sure you can understand how difficult it is for us to get even a brief moment of privacy. Press and all that... Your employer owed me a favor. He was kind enough to inform me of this flat being empty right now. Sorry, I assumed he would have told security." Sherlock grimaced in apology.

"He didn't tell me anything," the man said, still eyeing them both suspiciously.

"Well, my apologies then... We'll just get going I think. Thanks for your understanding." Sherlock said casually as he gathered up his and Molly's things from the floor and made his way to the door with Molly following along. But he stopped, before disappearing through the doorway.

"Oh, and one more thing! If you could manage not to mention this to any reporters, that would be most helpful. I think we would both very much appreciate it, wouldn't we darling?" He shot Molly a sly smile and a wink.

Molly could only nod and smile as she felt her cheeks heat up again.

The man continued to watch them hesitantly. "Yeah, right... whatever you say," he answered slowly.

Sherlock offered another quick grin to the man and then took Molly's hand, quickly leading them away from the flat. Once they'd left the room, he picked up the pace and ran around the corner to the stair well which they began making their way down.

"That was incredibly close!" Molly said as she tried to catch her breath while they ran down the stairs. And she'd meant it in more ways than one.

"Yes... I apologize for that," Sherlock said, also between breaths. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and opened the door that led out back.

"I suppose we'll have to put up with the internet rumors again about this one," Molly said resignedly.

They began to make their way around the building to the street so that they could catch a cab. Sherlock shook his head at her statement.

"Actually, I wouldn't worry so much about that. I felt rather comfortable using _us_ as an excuse in this case. I believe that he'd be the last person in a position to start any internet rumors." Sherlock looked at his watch and smiled. "I'd say he's going to be arrested in approximately ten minutes. His employer responded and said he's already called the police and they're on their way."

Sherlock then reached his arm out and quickly got a cab. A few minutes after they drove away, they passed some police vehicles flying back in the direction they'd come from. Molly smiled at Sherlock.

"Looks like it was a success then. Nicely done."

He smiled back, and had a sudden knee jerk reaction to reach out and touch her hand which was on the seat next to him. He didn't, of course, but was rather disturbed about how automatic that response had been in his brain. He knew he shouldn't have done exactly what he did in that unoccupied flat, but there didn't seem to be any other reasonable and quick options at that moment. He also knew, in hindsight, that he'd now seared into his mind what it felt like to press his face into Molly's warm neck and feel how fast her pulse was against his own lips. Every time he experienced something like this, he realized that he'd never be able to make that memory go away... And he'd never completely escape wanting to feel it again.

Her smile made her eyes sparkle in the dark of the cab and he could just make out how widely dilated her pupils were... and he wondered if it was unfair to create such a response in her when he had no intention of moving forward. No, the truth was that he _knew_ it was unfair... So he looked away.

Sherlock swallowed the things he was experiencing and took a deep breath before glancing back at her momentarily. "Thank you for coming with me tonight," he said simply.

"You're welcome. It was no trouble, I wanted to... though I'm not really sure I helped all that much."

"Oh no, on the contrary," he said as the corner of his lips curled a little in a renewed smile. "You helped a great deal, as a matter of fact."

"Oh did I?"

"Mm, think about it." He looked over at her again and began to laugh a little. "What on earth would I have done if it had been John and I discovered in that flat?"

Molly began to laugh then as well. They both gave in to the humor of Sherlock's statement, and let it carry them away. It was an easy escape. Not just because they enjoyed laughing together, now that they could relax after avoiding the trouble of the case. It was also because they each desperately needed to be distracted from the things that were hanging heavily between them in the back of that cab.

Because there really was a lot between them now. There was a lot more than Sherlock Holmes was comfortable to admit, and a lot more then Molly Hooper knew.

* * *

_**I am still planning to use some of your suggestion about the whole Sherlolly flat mate situation. May be another week before another update happens. Not totally sure... Oh, and keep checking out "i told you so, sherlolly" in Tumblr. The amazing art, photo shop, and gifs continue!... Thanks again so much, you're all the best readers in the world! See you next time! ;D**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**I'm so speedy yay! Here's another chapter for you guys. More fun with Sherlock's failed attempts to be indifferent, and Molly's assumptions that he is, And Mary... being Mary. :) I don't feel like I have a lot to say this time around, so I'll just make it short and sweet. Hope you all like this latest update, and I can't wait to hear what you think! ;)**_

* * *

Molly rolled over slowly at the sound of her alarm, and gave it a sound whack to shut it off. She immediately noticed that her bedroom door was open, and she knew she'd shut it when going to bed. She sat up with a little groan and pulled her hair back in a messy ponytail before swinging her legs over the side of the bed and getting up.

Molly came down the stairs quietly, and heard nothing in the flat. The sun shone through the windows, and she looked down the hallway to see Sherlock's bedroom door open. She'd noticed he usually shut his door when going to his room, so it seemed possible that he'd gone out already. When she made her way into the kitchen and began starting the coffee, she heard the patter of tiny feet and Toby came running out to greet her. He had clearly been in Sherlock's room again. In fact, he didn't seem to want to be anywhere else.

"Hello little man. And how are you this morning? You'd better be staying off of Sherlock's bed. I don't think he'd take kindly to cat hair on his sheets," she whispered.

Toby wound around her legs, and she took the hint that he was hoping for some food. Molly got some cat food in his bowl and he happily set about eating it. The coffee was brewing then, and she leaned against the counter while absentmindedly playing with the buttons on her pajamas. She peered down the hall a bit again, wondering if Sherlock really was out.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to find out. Molly crept down the hallway and stopped just at his doorway. She braced herself on the sides of the door frame and leaned in a bit to look inside.

But, no indeed, he was not out. There was Sherlock, sleeping peacefully in his bed. It occurred to her that she'd never actually seen the man sleep before. He'd crashed at her flat many a time, but she'd always simply seen him vanish into her bedroom and shut the door behind him, only to emerge smartly dressed the next morning. Or sometimes he was gone before she even woke up.

Sherlock lay on his stomach with his head facing the other way. One arm hung over the side of the bed. The sheet and luxurious looking blanket covered his body up to where it gathered and stopped around his waist, leaving his back exposed. Molly stood there, frozen, knowing she should just turn and walk quickly away... but, of course, she was more than a little mesmerized. And she was also overcome with emotion, as she noticed the vast collection of scars that covered the defined expanse of his back and shoulders. They were older scars. A year or two at least, she estimated. It hurt her deep inside to think of Sherlock being hurt like that. And it wasn't difficult to imagine when it had happened.

His back rose and fell suddenly with the inhale and exhale of a deep breath, and Molly was brought back to reality. She quickly pushed herself away from his door and tip toed back to the kitchen. She went back to where she'd been standing before and nervously chewed a nail as she listened for any noise. She heard the creak of a bed a minute later and then footsteps, then also heard Sherlock's door shut.

Molly went about her routine, trying not to feel like a teenager who was flustered at the idea of an attractive shirtless man only a short distance away. She got her coffee, and then got some toast going. A few minutes later, she heard his door open again and Sherlock came walking out into the kitchen in his trousers and black shirt. Molly was more than sure that her face was the color of the tomatoes she's purchased the day before. Did he have to be continuing to button the shirt as he walked in? There really should be some sort of rule. _Sherlock Holmes may not show his face with more than the top shirt button undone in the interest of maintaining law and order, and to keep everyone from blushing and babbling like idiots_...

"Morning Molly," he said in a voice that made her realize it didn't really matter if he was in a space suit... she was still going to blush.

"Hi," she answered with a quick smile at him. Then she held up the now full pot. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

A moment of silence went by, then Sherlock spoke again as Molly poured his coffee.

"Sorry about your door last night."

"Oh, you mean you opened it?" she questioned as she dropped a couple sugar cubes into the cup.

"I did. I left my door and yours open in the hopes that Toby would leave my room. I'm not sure it worked though. He was still under my bed for the majority of the night, I believe. And then at one point was _on _my bed." Sherlock shot a disgruntled look at the furry animal on the floor.

Molly tried not to laugh. "Well, sorry about that. He seems to like your room. If you'd like, I can try to get him out before you go to bed. I don't want him to disturb you."

Sherlock shrugged. "I shut my door just now. I'm sure it'll be fine if I just keep it closed for the day. I'll be out soon and won't be back till evening."

"Alright... Oh, and I was going to make something tonight. Just something easy. Probably some pasta."

"That sounds fine. You certainly don't need to feel obliged, but you're welcome to do that if you'd like," and he offered a small smile after he'd finished taking a sip of coffee.

"Well, yes... I would like to," and Molly smiled back warmly.

And that was when they heard a knock and a voice in close succession.

"Isn't this charming? I do hope you realize that I won't be able to stop Mummy from inflicting a visit on you very soon."

Sherlock rolled his eyes before turning to see his brother waltzing in with a withered smile on his face.

"What do you want Mycroft?" he sighed.

"Just checking in. I'd got wind of your new little... arrangement. Glad to see you came up with such a convenient plan. And good morning to you Dr. Hooper." Mycroft nodded in her direction.

"Hello," she answered quietly and smiled at Mycroft. The elder Holmes brother had always intimidated her a bit, though she did trust him.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything," Mycroft then added pointedly, and looked back and forth between the two people in the little kitchen.

Molly took quick action to break up the discomfort of the situation. "Actually I'm just about to get ready for work. Um, Sherlock, could I use the shower first?"

"Yes, that's fine, no problem," Sherlock answered quickly, and Molly immediately uttered a thanks and exited the room to head back upstairs.

Sherlock turned back to Mycroft, who had a sly smile on his lips.

"What?!" Sherlock spat out.

"Oh I'm simply... observing. That's all," Mycroft answered haughtily. "How quickly did you come up with the plan to move Dr. Hooper into your flat? I think perhaps it worked to your advantage that I couldn't have my people keep an eye on her at present. Perhaps you'd much rather keep your own eyes on her."

"Oh shut up Mycroft!" Sherlock groaned and got up from his seat and moving over to the sitting room where he could see when Molly came back into the room. "Did you actually have a real reason for your visit this morning, or are you just trying to make my life difficult?"

"Always, brother mine... I actually have some news for you. Some news of Moriarty."

Sherlock whirled around with eyes widened. "News? What news?"

"Well, I suppose it's nothing that's _absolutely _confirmed. But there are a number of reports coming in that seem very like him." Mycroft took a seat in John's chair and then continued. "There's been a significant increase in organized crime in the past week or so. Except it's too organized. It's too well thought out and executed, and too smart. We know most of the people involved, and they wouldn't have it in them to pull some of these jobs off."

"Getting help from the consulting criminal, I'm sure," Sherlock said bitterly as he turned to face the window. "How far reaching?"

"Very far reaching. Multiple cities in England are seeing the shift. He seems to be very busy at the moment."

"Mm. He's back then. Completely back in the game," Sherlock muttered, mostly to himself.

"You may be a very busy man soon. I do believe Moriarty is done laying low."

"He's probably bored."

"Most likely. If I hear anything more detailed, I'll be in touch... I'll need to be going though. I've got a lunch to attend later, and I'll need to go over my notes as to who I have to keep happy this time." Mycroft rose from his seat with a resigned sigh.

"You enjoy yourself Mycroft. Do yourself a favor though, and stay away from anything sweet." Sherlock shot his brother a smug smile.

Just then, Molly came down the stairs with her clothes and towel. She passed them quickly, clearly trying not to disturb their conversation. She went straight into the loo and shut the door.

Mycroft turned to his brother and smiled, pausing for effect. "I do believe I could give you the very same advice... Good day Sherlock."

Sherlock's smug smile fell away as his brother turned and left the flat. He stalked around and pouted a little at his brother having had the last word in this instance. That was one of his least favorite things...

He heard the shower turn on then. He looked down the hall and saw Toby clawing lightly at the bottom of the door. Sherlock frowned slightly and hesitated, then came over to the door. He stood there next to the cat who alternated reaching his paw under the door and then looking up expectantly at the detective.

"Obviously I'm not going to let you in there," he stated, looking down at the animal, and he crossed his arms for effect.

Toby mewed quietly and kept pawing at the door.

"You're not allowed to claw at my doors, I suggest you find somewhere else to be. Your owner is occupied... Stop!" he insisted giving the cat a nudge with his foot. Finally he gave up. "Molly! It seems Toby is distressed at not being able to join you in the shower. And now he's clawing my door because of it."

"Sorry Sherlock! It's just, he's used to the door being open when I shower at my flat! If you want to let him in, you can. Though he may end up complaining again if he can't get out."

Toby renewed his scratching effort, and Sherlock groaned.

"Oh fine, you stupid animal," he muttered. "Alright, I'm letting him in now!"

Sherlock opened the door a minimal amount and Toby then vacillated in the typical fashion of a cat that'd finally been given the open door they'd long been asking for. His hesitation was long enough for the smell of Molly's body wash to come wafting out. Sherlock clamped his eyes shut for a second and actually had to brace himself on the door knob. He took a deep breath and then used his foot to force Toby in through the opening and quickly shut the door again.

"Thanks Sherlock!" Molly called out.

Sherlock finally opened his lips that he'd been pressing together forcefully. "No problem!... I'll be going now, by the way, and I'll lock the door. I'll be back this evening."

"Ok! Could you text me when you're on your way?" she called to him.

Sherlock paused, narrowing his eyes. This felt so strange... "Alright!" he called back, shaking his head slightly as he said it.

He quickly gathered his things then, and left the flat before anything else could happen. He already felt like his brain had been compromised, and he figured it was best not to be there when that door opened, releasing even more enticing aromas.

* * *

Sherlock sat at the Watson's kitchen table as John put the kettle on for some tea. "Where's Mary?" he asked.

"She's resting on the couch. We had an appointment yesterday, and her blood pressure is up a bit. Seems she has some pregnancy induced hypertension. She's supposed to take it easy, and they're hoping it'll stay under control. She's near her due date, so if the baby has to come, they'll just induce her."

"Do you have those files the art dealer faxed you?" Sherlock asked, getting back to his business at hand.

"Right here," John said, picking up the file from the kitchen counter and handing it to Sherlock.

Sherlock opened it, and scanned the information quickly. "Excellent, thank you... I imagine you won't be coming with me today."

"Sorry," John said with a shrug.

Sherlock got up from his seat. "It's fine. I should be able to handle this. I'm already fairly certain it's the step son... I'll just say hello to Mary before I go." Sherlock left the kitchen and went to their sitting room where she was lying across the couch, propped up with a pillow.

"Am I going to need to have a strongly worded conversation with the small Miss Watson? I hear she's not being as agreeable these days," Sherlock said with a half-smile.

"If you could talk some sense into her, I'd be forever grateful!" Mary said, looking very weary. And Sherlock could also see that she was retaining more fluid than the last time he's seen her. Definitely needing to deliver soon...

"How's things going at Baker Street?" Mary continued. "And do not evade my question Sherlock, I'm not in the mood! Please give me some sort of pleasant distraction! I could really use it right about now. And I can only check Anderson's blog so many times."

Sherlock frowned. "Anderson's blog?"

"Oh, I haven't told you about his blog 'Like Minded Fans?' I'll have to show you that after... But seriously, how are things going?"

Sherlock exhaled slowly. "It's... fine. I think things are going as well as can be expected."

"And when you say 'well' do you mean that you're effectively concealing your feelings?" Mary asked with a small rueful smile.

He paused and tilted his head in thought. "Perhaps..." he answered slowly.

Mary groaned in frustration. "You're going to give me a stroke Sherlock! I'm supposed to relax!" This earned him a light kick on the leg from the couch.

Sherlock smiled at Mary. "Fine... I kiss her before I leave every day, and when I come home as well. I text her throughout the day, reminding her of my undying affection. And last but not least, she no longer has any need for John's old room. There. Feeling more relaxed?" he asked with a teasing glint in his eye.

"Nope, I still know when you're fibbing. Nice try though... Ok, sit down, I'll show you Anderson's blog. But just promise me you won't go hunt the poor man down! Try to remember that he's actually attempting to set the record straight."

"I make no promises," Sherlock answered immediately.

Mary got on her tablet and opened up Anderson's very detailed blog. She turned it so that Sherlock could see. He narrowed his eyes at the screen and grabbed the device from her. "Oh for God's sake! Look at this! This is the most ridiculous site I've ever seen. It's almost all about Molly and I!"

"Well, that is what most of your fans care about these days. But like I said, at least he's trying to be accurate. Look here, there's a quiz here called 'How well do you know Sherlolly?' It sort of separates fact from fiction. Probably does a bit of good in combating the tabloid rumors. And then there's favorite art, pictures, videos, and news articles too."

"What in the world is this? 'When will Sherlolly become official?' This is a poll!" Sherlock said with a look of horror.

"Oh yeah, there's multiple choices. A- one month or less, B- six months, C- a year or more D- never. And look, 78% of people think you'll be together in a month or less," Mary pointed out with a cheeky grin.

"These are largely people who do not personally know us! I'm not sure why exactly these numbers would matter at all!" Sherlock announced indignantly.

"It's just for fun Sherlock! People absolutely love the idea of you two together. You can't blame them. And you can stop acting so above it all now, seeing as you _do _actually love Molly!" Mary poked Sherlock in the arm.

"That does not mean I think that the city of London should be speculating about the timetable of our relationship, or that there should be a relationship at all! My focus right now is on Moriarty's activity, and Molly's safety. And that is all!"

Mary smiled at him and paused, then added, "And maybe also getting another little kiss while she's living with you?"

Sherlock sighed and shook his head. He leaned down and kissed Mary's cheek after he stood up. "Keep that blood pressure under control Mrs. Watson... See you later John!"

"Text me about the case!" John called back from the kitchen.

Sherlock then left the Watson's flat and went about dealing with the minor distraction of a case that he had for that day.

* * *

Molly had left some chicken in a simple marinade during her day at Bart's, and there wasn't too much work to do when she got back to Baker Street. She changed into some comfortable clothes, and then pan cooked the chicken. She cut it up in smaller strips and set it aside, then waited to hear from Sherlock. The rest would go rather quickly, and if she started before he was close to getting home, it would certainly be cold.

She eyed Sherlock's leather chair, and looked around, as if there was anyone present to notice. After a moment's hesitation, she took a seat in the chair. She pulled her feet up and tucked them to the side. It was lovely. Nice and soft, but still supportive. And it was plenty roomy enough to really curl up in. No wonder Sherlock liked this chair.

She spent a lovely half hour playing around on her mobile checking emails, news, social media, and sending a few text messages. She began to think that she could fall asleep right here without much effort... but finally, Sherlock did text her.

ON MY WAY. BE BACK IN TEN. -SH

OK THANKS! -MH

Molly got back up then and went back to work on the meal. She got water boiling and put in the spaghetti. Then she put more olive oil in the pan she'd cooked the chicken in. She added sliced garlic, then a few anchovy fillets till those had dissolved in the hot oil. She was just adding a bunch of capers when she heard Sherlock come up the stairs and then through the door.

"Hi! This is going to be ready really soon, so- Oh my goodness!" Molly suddenly stopped and brought a hand up to her nose. "Why do you smell so bad?"

Sherlock threw his coat aside and began unbuttoning his cuffs. "Yes, I may have fallen in some garbage while completing a chase. Turns out I may have had use for John today after all... I'll just be requiring a shower, if you don't mind."

"Oh no, please! I don't mind at all. In fact, I think I'd mind if you didn't!" she said with a laugh.

Sherlock disappeared into the loo a couple minutes later, and Molly heard the shower start up. She ended up having just the right amount of time to add the tomatoes she's cut up, and let them cook for a while, and then drain the pasta. She poured the pasta back into the pot she'd cooked it in, seeing as Sherlock didn't exactly possess any serving dishes, then she added the oil concoction. She tossed that around a bit, then added the sliced chicken. Pleased with the results, she got a couple plates.

It wasn't more than a minute later that Sherlock emerged in fresh trousers, shirt, and dressing gown. His hair was still slightly damp, and of course he looked amazing. Molly wished she hadn't changed into lounge clothes. He may be wearing a dressing gown, but that was about the only thing casual about him. Overall, he looked like he could be at a dinner party.

Sherlock walked past the kitchen where Molly was getting plates and silverware, and into the sitting room. He immediately turned his attention to the leather chair... _Interesting._ He looked at the latest pattern of indent, and it certainly hadn't been made by him from this morning. He glanced over again at Molly in the kitchen, then looked at the chair again. His mouth curled slightly in a smile. There was something satisfying about the idea of Molly relaxing in his chair. And it was also strangely endearing to think of her doing this secretly. He fixed his expression again, and decided not to say anything.

"Here you go," Molly said and walked over to hand him a plate of pasta. "There's not really room to eat at the table right now, so..."

"Right, well let's just sit here."

"Ok... Do you want some wine? I got some red wine the other day."

Sherlock did some quick mental calculations. _Alcohol... not a good idea. What happened last time you ingested alcohol in the presence of Molly Hooper?_

"I'm fine, thanks," he said taking a seat with his plate.

"Alright, well I'll have a little. Tell me if you change your mind."

Molly came over and sat with her glass of wine and her plate a minute later. She sat down just as Sherlock was digging into his plate. There was silence for a moment as Molly hovered nervously over her own food, unable to even bring the fork to her mouth because of watching Sherlock. Finally he looked up as he licked his lips and noticed Molly frozen and waiting.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I just... do you like it?"

"It's delicious... Why aren't you eating?" he frowned in confusion.

"Oh good, you like it! I'm always worried when cooking for anyone. It doesn't happen too often, so I always make myself so nervous." Then Molly felt as ease to begin eating her own serving.

"Nothing to be nervous about," he said simply. "It's a good recipe. The anchovies really provide most of the flavor, don't they?"

Molly laughed as she swallowed her bite. "Well it figures you'd know exactly what's in here! That's usually the fun of this dish. People will tell me it tastes good, and I'll have them guess what gives it that flavor. But almost nobody can. The anchovies completely dissolve, so it's usually such a mystery to everyone."

"I like solving mysteries," Sherlock said in a low murmur, and almost unconsciously, he winked as he said it.

Sherlock instantly caught himself, and then almost apologized. He hadn't really meant to do it. But then he realized that making mention of it could bring attention to something that perhaps she hadn't even noticed... _Never mind, _he thought as he observed her suddenly flushed cheeks and the way she was smiling nervously and touching her hair, _she definitely noticed. _But he decided to move along anyway.

Molly took a sip of her wine and smiled across the space between the two chairs before continuing to eat in silence. She figured that was how Sherlock preferred it. If she'd been asked, she'd have guessed that he may prefer to eat completely alone. It seemed unlikely that he really wanted to eat with someone else and make conversation. But he probably felt like he had to let her sit with him, given that she had made the food.

A few minutes later, Sherlock's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Is there any more?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, actually there is... you really like it," she smiled.

"Well, I said I did. I wouldn't eat it if I didn't like it. I don't typically do things to spare people's feelings, as you're well aware."

"Yes, I suppose I should know that." Molly smiled and then made her way over to get him more pasta.

Another plate of pasta later, the two of them were completely full. And there was another serving left for Molly to take as lunch at work the next day. Sherlock walked over to his desk and spent some time on his laptop for a while. Molly cleaned up the remnants of the dinner preparation, and took care of the dishes. When she was done, she got some food in Toby's dish. He didn't come running though, so she figured he was hiding somewhere. She didn't realize Sherlock had gotten up and was watching her as she looked around the kitchen and then down the hallway.

"He's probably under my bed again. My fault for opening my door."

Molly turned at the sound of his voice. "Oh, right. Well, would you like me to get him out and take him upstairs after he eats?"

Sherlock shrugged. "It's fine. As long as he stays under my bed, and doesn't try to join me _in it _again, we should be able to coexist peacefully."

"I'll just leave his food out, and he'll probably come out to eat sooner or later. So, maybe you could leave your door open just a crack... I'm going to um, head upstairs now. I got the kitchen all cleaned up. If you need me I'll probably be up for a while, reading or something." _Idiot, _she thought. _What in the world would he need you for? _

He looked back at her with steady eyes which made her knees feel much less than steady. "Thank you Molly."

"Mm hm, no problem. Ok, well, good night," she said brightly, then quickly passed by him to head for the door to upstairs.

Molly got in her room and tried to read her book she had recently downloaded. But she had a really difficult time getting into it. All she could hear and focus on were the haunting melodies that floated up the stairs from where Sherlock was then playing his violin. Eventually she gave up and laid her book down, shut off her light, and snuggled under the covers to just listen to the music. She lay there for almost an hour, listening to him play on and off.

And she eventually fell asleep to what she could have sworn, in her half-conscious brain, sounded like "Say Something" by A Great Big World...

* * *

_**I have to say that I actually looked up violin covers of the song Say Something by A Great Big World... and I was almost getting teary. Some really beautiful stuff out there! You gotta love YouTube. If I was upstairs in Sherlock's spare bedroom, and that's what I heard downstairs, I'd be a blubbering mess! Or maybe I'd just want to run back downstairs and give him a hug lol! Oh, and who else wishes that Anderson actually had a blog like that? I know I do haha! **_

_**Ok, well that's it for now. See you guys on chapter 17! ;)**_


End file.
